The Barton case may well come to be remembered as the one in which the General Medical Council lit the fuse of its own destruction. But the fuse that has been lit is not the one that appears to have been lit.
Unlike the Gosport relatives of Barton’s victims, and the multitude of commentators on the web, and in the press, Dr No does not think that GMC stands for ‘Gross Medical Cover-up’. He does not think this is a simple case of a profession looking after its own.
Sure, there are doctors involved. But this is not about doctors protecting doctors. It is something infinitely more troubling. It is The Establishment looking after The Establishment.
Were it not for the genuinely sad nature of the case, the last few hours of Lynn Gilderdale’s life could almost have about it the air of a grotesque Benny Hill sketch. In a surreal speeded up video, complete with that memorable theme tune, one might see Kay Gilderdale rushing around their home, searching out pills and potions, furious grinding in pestle and mortar, frantic googling, over-size syringes full of air…
Thomas Harris, in his popular account of transactional analysis ‘I’m OK–You’re OK’, describes a toxic life position known as ‘I’m OK–You’re not OK’. How long, Dr No wonders, will it be before the current spate of ‘mercy’ killings mutate via ‘I’m not OK–You’re not OK’ to ‘I’m not OK–You’re Dead’ and then ‘I’m OK–You’re Dead’? 
Dr No has a close non-medical friend – a salesman – who is forever trying to sell Dr No the idea that medicine is really just like any other job. All that special pleading, all that vocation nonsense, is so much hot air, he says. Other jobs have just the same stresses and rewards. Medics have no ‘special case’.
Language, they tell us on Radio 4’s ‘I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue’ is constantly evolving. If Clue should ever find itself down Gosport-way, it would find that ‘Going for a Burton’ – the WW2 euphemism for taking a shufti – has evolved into ‘Going for a Barton’ – meaning admission to the town’s War Memorial Hospital, and subsequent death while under the care of the visiting Diamorphine Queen, Dr Jane Barton.
Yet another 
Just as the Church of England is the Tory party at prayer, so is the Medical Profession the Tory party at work. Doctors, for all sorts of reasons, are natural conservatives.
There are those who say that the Isle of Wight is one big Departure Lounge in the sea, an Island of Biddies and Gilberts waiting for their Final Flight. As it happens, Dr No knows the Island well. It certainly has more than its fair share of Departure Lounges, but it is also a very beautiful Island. Dr No has spent many a happy day savouring its special blend of peace and tranquillity.
Like the Mississippi, Kate Middleton’s posts just keep rolling along. They roll on full flood, for ever and ever, a relentless flow of swirling words. But she gets away with it. She has the gift of words, and writes well. And – more to the point – what she has to say on her blog is of the greatest importance.
The ever-interesting Witch Doctor has made a welcome return to the blogosphere. It seems that while she was away in the witchosphere, she spent time contemplating one of her persistent themes – that of creep. The Witch Doctor, she says, believes in creep. So does Dr No. But, it appears, not everyone is familiar with the term as the Witch Doctor and Dr No use it. A little while ago, one of Dr No’s confidants – a well read and intelligent woman – was reading a post and remarked on what she read as a grammatical error. Dr No had missed out a subject to the verb creep. She had not before come across the word creep used as a noun to describe a social process. Dr No wonders if there may be others unfamiliar with this usage.