1 month. 2 weeks. 7 days. 24 hours. With monotonous regularity every one of Labour's deadlines to 'Save The NHS' comes and goes.
Yet the institution remains remarkably unchanged, the promised armageddon again failing to materialise. The credibility of these increasingly hysterical forecasts of doom can surely be no more than that of the deluded old soul wandering Oxford Street with his "The End Is Nigh' placard. But still they come. The only one left for them now a NASA-style 10 second countdown. The time has come to no longer let each and every one of these fake ultimatums pass by unremarked upon, but to call them out loud and clear as they arrive.
The broader truth is that a Conservative government could guarantee every patient the gift of eternal life and send them home with a complimentary pot of caviar and it still wouldn't be enough. It will never be. But can we at least stop playing into the Labour narrative? Stop treating a valuable public service like a religion that can only be spoken of in a hushed tone of reverence rarely heard outside of the Vatican.
We can begin by desisting from the glutinous and now obligatory practice of referring to 'Our' NHS. For every member of the public that has bought into Labour's fetishisation of this institution there is an equally large and silent number that haven't. They do not gaze at the NHS with uncritical awe - and neither should we.