Nye Bevan once said: “No society can legitimately call itself civilized if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means.”

Yet fast forward to present day and the country’s greatest achievement is on the brink of collapse and is currently being treated like a charity, while relying on donations from a 99-year-old man doing laps of his garden.

To say we weren’t warned about Boris Johnson would be an understatement, even his own party members told us how much of an incompetent leader he would be, which is ironic considering one of those people was Michael Gove.  

The man is quite frankly just as reckless, irresponsible and dangerous as Donald Trump. The only difference being that Boris Johnson actually listens to what his speech writers say so he doesn’t make an idiot of himself on National Television.

Some of you might think comparing our Prime Minister to the one across the pond is far-fetched. But how else do you describe a man who continually hid away in the countryside and chose to play Tennis with a donor over heading COBRA meetings about the global pandemic that was looming over our country.

The planning for what was to come was nothing short of a disgrace, austerity has resulted in savage cuts to our healthcare system which means much of our PPE equipment is out of date. The equipment that was in date was shipped off to China in February.

Herd immunity was the way to go originally, “take it on the chin” Boris gleefully announced to the nation. That is until they released that all those health experts who repeatedly warned them how disastrous that would be were, wait for this, not making it up.      

We have sent our NHS heroes off to fight the virus without the adequate tools needed to actually protect themselves. Remember that next time you are on your doorstep clapping, these people in charge don’t care.

They were told by experts in the field of medicine and people within the NHS about the dire consequences that were likely to happen and they chose to ignore it.

Recently workers are being asked to re-use their PPE with stories of staff being sent of date protection with the expiry date covered with a sticker. As if the bin liners that they were wearing in the first place wasn’t a big enough insult.

The Tory’s have also been accused of setting up fake Twitter accounts of nurses praising the governments plan of action, clearly nothing is off the limits for them, something that should have been apparent from the election.

So far, around 126 NHS staff have passed away due to this virus and it is going to get far worse. Horror stories about healthcare workers leaving behind loved ones at an age when they still had so much more to give, how many of those were avoidable?

Let’s not forget about final year students who haven’t even finished their degree yet being drafted in, let that just sink in for a minute. A student who isn’t even getting paid now dealing with one of the greatest health crises that this country has ever faced.

That is where Matt Hancock comes in, the creepy looking man who I wouldn’t let within two metres of my nephew whether social distancing was a thing or not. That man is woefully out of his depth, he always has been, but it has taken a pandemic to show it to the wider audience.

The Tory healthcare secretaries are similar to the music on the top floor of Baa Bar, you expect absolutely nothing and then once you’re there to witness it first-hand, it is even worse than you anticipated it to be.

Matt Hancock, just like his predecessors, is about as useful as a concrete parachute. I sometimes wonder if he gets tired pretending to care about these people who he has signed a death warrant for.

One of Hancock’s recent plans was not to give nurses a pay rise, but instead to give them a badge and if something ever summed up the culture of this current government, they had to pay for the badge themselves.

For those who say this has nothing to do with politics, you are wrong. The fact that the NHS is on the verge of collapse, the fact we will likely have the highest death rate in Europe and every single preventable death that comes with that.

That is all to do with politics, because of the ineptitude of the people whose job it is to prevent all of these things. The very same people who will tell you on the television tonight how much they love you and how they will protect you. The ones who stand on the doorstep of Downing Street and clap these workers. 

It is all lies and it is your job to look through all of it and face the bitter truth that as long as these people look good on camera, they couldn’t care less about the carnage that they leave behind.   

Once again, the Tory’s put the economy before humanity. It is not for the first time, and it won’t be the last if we don’t do everything in our power to remove the virus that they plague our society with.

So, this week marks two years since my dog, Poppy, was put to rest.

I am currently sat here feeling bored and hungover and attempting to avoid doing my dissertation and after seeing another friend post a blog, I’ve decided I’d shamelessly rip off his idea for the day and copy him.

Since my life isn’t very interesting at all I’ve decided to write one about my old friend and why it is important people realise pets are in fact family.

I first got Poppy when I was just seven-years-old, I was 18-years-old when she passed, meaning I spent my entire teenage life with her by my side.

You can smirk at this if you like but she was my friend, dogs have a wonderful gift of being able to put a smile on your face very easily no matter what mood you are in.

As well as this they don’t speak or judge you, that means you can just ramble to them and they will just sit there and happily listen as long as you give them a stroke.

It is that simplicity of a dog’s life that is one of their biggest traits, unlike people, you are their life. They are always going to be around as they aren’t busy with work, relationships, personal issues etc.    

If I felt down or stressed then she would always be happy to play tug-of-war, have a play fight, go for a walk, something to help take your mind off things.

An example of how much she integrated herself into our lives was that when we first got her I don’t even think my dad was overly keen on the idea of having a dog. The day we lost her though he was just as sad as all of us.  

Pops was by no means an angel, due to repeated dog attacks on her she wasn’t the friendliest to her fellow kind, which could lead to some very tricky dog walks at times in our local park.

She also hated loud noises and busy places meaning the pub was an absolute nightmare as any attempt to stroke her from a stranger would usually result in a slight growl.

Despite the picture I have painted above she was a loving dog, she used to howl for minutes on end whenever somebody left the house. She would smile (I kid you not) when I would get home from school, that is if I had to let myself in.

If somebody opened the door before I got to the house, she would sprint the length of the street just to say hello to you. I have never seen anyone happier to see me to this day.

When she was younger whenever guests came around, they would have to greet her in the garden as she would uncontrollably wee. My brother-in-law’s shoes once fell victim to this as he had to bin them after she gleefully welcomed him at the door.

Memories such as these are what make the resulting loss of a pet so painful, especially when you lose them the way that we lost Poppy.

What a lot of people don’t know is that the lead up to pops death was pretty traumatic. It wasn’t a case of her getting sick and then being put down, it was an agonisingly long process in which she suffered greatly and there was nothing we could really do.

Due to her illness she lost control of her back legs which meant she was in extreme discomfort whenever she walked. For her to go the toilet it involved us carrying her into the garden and then spending long amounts of time propping her up and then watching her hobble to a suitable spot.

At night you could hear her whine as she wanted to go to her favourite sleeping spot (top of the stairs) but couldn’t due to not being able to get up the obstacle of the stairs that awaited her.

All she would do of a day is lie down in the same spot all day, this was continuous for weeks. You could see the life slowing draining from her face as she was usually a very active dog.

After numerous tests the vets still didn’t properly know what was wrong with her and in the end, she was given steroids.

This actually gave a glimmer of hope as she began to walk again and although she was far from perfect you could argue she was on the mend.

It was only until further tests showed that she in fact had cancer which had spread from her legs and to the rest of her body that we knew her fight was over.

I’m going to brutally honest as I write about her final day because I think it is important.

There was a splutter-like sound as she breathed because of the bleed on her lungs, there was also dry blood around her nose and she was in extreme pain.

I write that for those who don’t see pets as family and laugh at people who mourn the deaths of them. She had quite literally grown up with me as I went from childhood to early adulthood and had been a massive part of my life and that was the final image I got to see of her.

This is the hardest part of it all because an extremely loyal dog, who always did her best to put a smile on your face, was in pain and the only thing that we could do to make her feel better was take her life from her.

Naturally as with anyone we lose in life you come to a period of acceptance and now, although it does still make me sad, I can look back at my time with Pops and smile.

To wrap this all up.

If you got as far as this then firstly, what is wrong with you, go and get out the house and do something productive with your day instead of reading this.

Secondly, and most importantly, don’t feel embarrassed for mourning the death of a pet. They make up a massive part of your life and are very much one of the family.