I've just come from a call to one of my semi-regulars. He's alcoholic, has a stomach ulcer, and is as thin as a rake. He is sitting in a filthy kitchen surrounded by empty bottles of cheap booze.

He's 26 years old.

His friend, of the same age, is also an alcoholic. He has pancreatitis.

Asked if they want to try a rehab programme, I was told that they weren't interested.

I've got to confess, it made me angry. Two lives being washed away with bottles of cheap cider.

"So you want to die?", I asked.

They didn't have an answer.

Now I just want to hit something.

Congratulations to Kate, who was on the same training course as me, for being featured in the Independant on Sunday about what she is doing on Christmas day, and what she will be eating. (Crisps, sandwiches and a bit of fruit for those that are interested). She mentions that her Christmas dinner will be warmed up in the microwave.

Sad bit though is that she won't see her young children until much later in the day.

We get little thanks for our job, so I hereby command you, my little cult of adoring readers, to find your local ambulance station and take them something nice to eat. Packets of crisps are nice, as are boxes of chocolates. Nibbly things are good too, as they can sit on a table and be snacked on should we ever get back to station. I'm sure lots of people like mince pies.

Do the same for the Police as well.

I wouldn't worry about the Fire service though - they have lovely big kitchens and nothing to do all day...

Go forth, and spread joy to those poor bastard ambulance/police people working on Christmas.

Disclaimer: I'm working Christmas day. But I always do, not having kids and being a Godless Heathen.

The past couple of nights I've gone to calls that I've wanted to grab some parents and shake some common sense into them. Instead I have to be polite, if only for the quiet life.

Apologies - Judgemental post ahoy!

"Madam", I hear myself say, "the reason that your four children have asthma may well have something to do with the four packs of cigarettes I see sitting on the sofa. When you were at the ante natal classes, and they told you the effects of smoking on your children, did you think that they just liked to hear the sound of their own voices? Or, did you in an uncharacteristic spark of intelligence, think that they may just be the agents of some vast conspiracy financed by the companies who make nicotine patches?".

"You might also consider that the reason all your children have runny noses, is because smoking makes them less likely to fight off respiratory infections. You might not know this, but asthma kills people, and that includes your children. You are condemming them to a shortened life of ill health and hospital visits, all so that you can feed your oral fixation."

To other parents I might say...

"So, when you got an electric shock from the uninsulated wire poking from that hole in the wall, you didn't think of...I don't know...lets say protecting your children by having it fixed? Sure it might cost you a bit of money, but at least your toddler wouldn't now be in hospital to make sure that being electrocuted by mains electricity didn't do any permanent harm".

"I like that toy", I'd say to another mother of two, "I particularly like the little bite-sized bits of plastic that are strewn over the floor, yes I understand that your oldest child is a mite untidy, but when your 18 month old is choking to death on a toy soldier, you might consider it too late to tidy up. I know it's hard to teach six year olds to clean up after themselves, especially one who seems to be happier peeling your wallpaper off the wall while you shout at him to 'stop fuckin' doin' that!'. Perhaps you might try a different approach? In answer to your question, no you can't smoke in the back of the ambulance".

To one angry parent I might say...

"So your baby stopped breathing for five minutes? And I took over half an hour to come? Well, I'd like to show you the time you called, and how it took me only two minutes to get here, but I think the computer display in my car might confuse you. Besides, I'm not delivering your pizza, you don't get your money back if I'm longer than thirty minutes. Still, back to the baby - she's breathing alright now, perhaps I could interest you in employment in the ambulance service, as you seem to have a Christ-like ability to get children breathing again. Oh, sorry, baby is a 'he' not a 'she'? Sorry, I was confused at the two hoop earrings, the three necklaces, and the rings, all at under six months. Why stop there? Maybe they would like their belly button pierced as well? Still I suppose 'Shayne' is a manly name, funny way of spelling it though. Never mind, we're off to hospital now, don't forget your fags".

And don't forget those who may have strange priorities...

"JESUS CHRIST! Aren't the six foot Santa's and inflatable snowmen supposed to be outside the house? I thought I was going to get mugged by a madman in red. Nice television though, if you could just turn the volume down a little so I can hear what you are saying to me. Yes Tyler is an adorable eight year old, even if he did injure himself smashing his neighbour's windows. Why, might I ask are his hands that colour? Ah, how silly of me, paint from his self expression in the fine art of graffiti. Did you consider a taxi to take you the 400 yards to hospital. You can't afford one? Ever think of selling the TV? Or maybe the Santa?. Yes, yes, you can bring your cigarettes".

And breathe...and relax...

It was supposed to end at the first paragraph, but I just kept rolling. Oops.

I find it funny that a lot of the blogs that I read are 'winding down' a little for Christmas, either reducing posts, or taking a complete holiday. Me...I'm just getting busier and busier. Good job I'm a faithless Heathen.