It has been far too long since I used this medium to have a proper good rant. Now seems as good a time as any for me to get a couple of things off my chest.

If you are in any way involved in the running of the NHS or Her Majesty’s court service, then I suggest you look away now.

Right, first up is the shambolic Accident and Emergency department at Barnet Hospital. A fortnight ago I was making myself a cheese sandwich, while at the same time, rather foolishly, telling my flatmate a dirty joke.

While chuckling away I momentarily took my eyes off the piece of cheese and the rather sharp knife I was using. Obviously the inevitable happened and I was left with a sizeable slash right through my left thumb.

I tried to be very brave, and despite pints of blood gushing forth managed to wrap it up rather neatly with some kitchen roll and sellotape and sat down to watch the last episode of Ashes to Ashes.

An hour later and there was still rather a lot of the red stuff finding its way out of my body. This is where the fun begins.

My flatmate kindly drives me to A&E, arriving at roughly 10.45pm. A not entirely friendly receptionist takes down every detail about my life bar my inside leg measurement and sends me to sit with some frankly quite revolting members of the public in the waiting area.

Time passes. Nothing happens other than my flatmate making friends with a rather large, smelly gentleman, whose only complaint was that he had a sore throat. Get to the chemist mate, you don’t need to be in A&E.

Anyway, by 12.30am I have still not been seen, and decide to ask a nurse when I might have the pleasure of being treated. She prods my thumb, says she will tape it up with a steri-strip (that’s a fancy plaster apparently), tells me there are two more patients to go and then it will be my turn.

Ok, I think, I can wait a little longer.

And wait I did, until 1.20am (two and a half hours after my arrival) when a different nurse finally calls me through. A very quick inspection and chat reveals I face another two-hour wait for a doctor to administer a tetanus jab.

After a rather frank discussion I made it clear I wouldn’t be waiting until 3.30am to be seen and asked what alternatives there were, suggesting what I thought was the rather ludicrous idea of me going home and putting a plaster on. “Yes, that’d be as good as anything,” said the helpful nurse.

Great. So after nearly three hours waiting I left, having had no treatment, and went home to bed, having indeed administered my own plaster.

I don’t blame the nurses or doctors, don’t get me wrong, but the fact that there were only four of them at an A&E department covering a large part of north west London and south Hertfordshire is clearly not on. The Government needs to be held to account.

Ok, my cut thumb wasn’t the worst injury in the world, but I wouldn’t fancy a trip back there with a more serious complaint. Plus the place was filthy.

Anyway, next up is the court system.

On Wednesday morning I spent the best part of three hours waiting for a sentencing to take place at St Albans Magistrates Court.

My only previous experience of that particular courthouse was for a four day trial last month, during which the place seemed to be very well run by fairly friendly people.

Not so on Wednesday. After checking the day before that the case was starting at 10am, I made my way to the town in good time, only to discover upon my arrival that in fact nothing would be happening until midday.

All parties involved in the case had been given the wrong time, and as such were left to sit and wait for news on when the sentencing may take place and whether it would happen at all.

Much of the delay was caused by the fact the prosecutor was working on another lengthy trial in the courtroom next door, and thus could not appear until they broke for lunch at 1pm.

Anyone who has dealt with the courts will know it is just about the biggest racket going. Reports do not appear on time, criminals are taken to the wrong courts, you name it, the delays are endless.

All the while, of course, the lawyers’ clocks are ticking. Another few grand here, another few grand there, what difference does it make to them if it takes forever?

The courts are one of Britain’s most poorly run and organised systems ever.

Right, rant over. Have a nice weekend everyone.