My dad had a colonoscopy and then was asked to ‘rate his experience’ – since when did the NHS become like Uber & Amazon

LAST Sunday, my poor dad trundled off to hospital for a colonoscopy.

It being, ya know, a procedure up his bum, he didn’t love it.

That, and the lingering fear of what the results might show, made it an altogether not-brilliant episode.

However, the next day he received the following text message: “We would like you to think about your recent experience of our Day Case Service at our NHS Trust*.

"Overall, how was your experience of our service?

"1 for Very Good, 5 for Very Poor, 6 for Don’t Know.

"Please reply today, your feedback is anonymous and important to us. ALL REPLIES ARE FREE.”

I mean, he’s had better days out.

And recently, my friend took her beloved cat to the vets.

The trip didn’t go well. The cat, 103 in cat years, was promptly put down.

Later that week she received an email asking her to “rate her experience” at the vet’s.

Not surprisingly, the London clinic didn’t get top marks and a “can’t wait to come back             ” review.

Since when have we become so obsessed with rating things?

Well, since Uber, Airbnb, Amazon, YouTube, Yelp and TikTok et al became a thing.

But now it’s seeping through to every facet of our life, extending far beyond the commercial.

In scenes eerily imitating a famous Black Mirror episode called Nosedive, a dystopian world where people can rate each other from one to five stars for every interaction they have, this is what we are becoming in 2024.

Hairdressers and beauticians now pack you off with a new bob and nails — and a www address to score your practitioner.

Had I bothered to leave a five-star rating for my hairdresser last week, I’d have received 20 per cent off my next visit.

Because that’s going to ensure impartiality.

At the self-service tills at WHSmith in Waterloo, you can’t pay for your goods until you’ve completed a Rate Your Service bit on the PIN pad.

Er, a) it’s a self-service till and b) this is a commuter station, with scores of seething commuters trying not to miss their train.

If you decline, a passive-aggressive message pops-up, saying the rating service is in partnership with some sort of charity enterprise for kids.

A dose of guilt with that Galaxy Caramel, then.

Every time I step foot in an Uber now, I’m terrified to speak lest I should in any way, shape or form offend the driver.

Superficial obsession

The particularly boozy summer of 2016, aka The Forgotten Months, saw my taxi rating plummet from an almost perfect 4.9 out of 5 to a shameful 4.52. (The INDIGNITY!!!) Nowadays, I try to avoid breathing too loudly. Or drinking.

Not only are we creating a Chinese state government-esque spying system — indeed, in 2014 China implemented its Social Credit System, one evaluating businesses and individuals for “trust-worthiness” — we are also creating a system rife for abusing.

Small businesses are being flooded with rogue reviews by rival firms out to sabotage, and social media companies aren’t doing enough to prevent a cottage industry of fraudsters.

Counterfeit goods are being given five- star reviews by bots, convincing us to part ways with money for shoddy goods.

Even dating sites are now allowing people to “rate their date”. Ouch. A woman scorned ’n’ all.

While some of this has its benefits — there’s no such thing as buyer’s remorse any more, only a lack of research — what effect will this superficial obsession have on yoof?

I’m still not over my crashing Uber rating — big sorries to the driver whose musical choice I described as an affront to humanity, and the driver in whose Prius I was sick — but I’m big and ugly enough to get over it.

A 15-year-old schoolgirl, told she’s not thin enough for a certain jean cut according to a fashion AI bot, or slated on TikTok and bullied at school, now that’s crippling.

*My dad is at pains for me to make clear the staff at his hospital were all wonderful, and his treatment was great.

Sloth is the real star of the show

NOW, in this pictorial slot I could have chosen a nice photo of an overpaid, Bafta-winning actress wearing not very much.

Or I could have plumped for a Costa Rican three-toed sloth waving to the camera.

You’re welcome.

A last laugh for Pat

GOGGLEBOX has come under fire for paying an emotional tribute to late star “Mummy Pat” – nanoseconds after airing a clip about butt plugs.

Pat Webbe, who appeared on the cult Channel 4 show alongside her popular son Stephen, died last month after a long illness.

Gogglebox ended its show with a tribute, reading: “In loving memory Mummy Pat Webb 1948-2024.”

Slightly unfortunately, it followed a segment featuring Alison Hammond and Dermot O’Leary on This Morning discussing the best sex toys to buy. One was a viral “suction rose” vibrator.

Po-faced viewers weren’t happy: “It’s an affront to human dignity,” raged one.

Actually, I’m pretty sure that wherever she’s watching from now, the brilliant Mummy Pat couldn’t think of a more perfect send-off.

Sarnie sack's a joke

A CITY law firm has reportedly fired an Ecuadorian cleaning lady for eating a leftover tuna sandwich while tidying a room.

Representatives of the United Voices of the World, a union that supports migrant workers, has launched an employment claim on single mother Gabriela Rodriguez’s behalf.

The company, Devonshires – which recorded a pre-tax profit of £21million – has distanced itself by saying the £13-an-hour employee was contracted to a third-party agency, who did the firing.

Devonshires describes itself as a “law firm with personality”.

A crap one if they don’t take her back.

I’ve no Bafta luvvie

AH, the Bafta awards.

A nauseatingly self-indulgent, back-slapping ceremony celebrating multi-millionaire lefties.

An organisation veritably tripping over itself to be woke, condemning everyone and everything who doesn’t share its world view.

At one point, host David Tennant handed over to Gillian Anderson – but couldn’t resist a little political dig as he did so.

He back-handedly praised her, then, for “terrifying us” with her portrayal of Margaret Thatcher . . . a role she undertook FOUR YEARS AGO.

Still, kicking Maggie presumably made the free Champagne taste all the sweeter, eh, chaps.

MINISTERS have confirmed plans to ban the use of mobile phones in schools.

It’s about time.

The proliferation of smart-phones – 97 per cent of kids have one aged 12 – is terrifying.

Not only are they distracting in a place of learning (why bother reading The Tempest when you can Google “a cheat’s guide to Caliban” in 0.003 seconds?), but social media pressure is also leading to increased bullying incidences.

It’s down to both teachers and parents to enforce this. It can’t be one or the other.

Cut and fried . . .

LAST week I went to the hairdressers, an experience I never enjoy.

Suffice to say, during the mandatory wash, what appeared to be water poured directly from a steaming kettle was cascaded over my head.

“How’s that temperature for you?” asked the nice lady, as scabs and first-degree burns began to form.

“Ah it’s fine, thanks,” I replied.

Similarly, after being shown a horrifying mirror-image of my Tibetan monkesque cut, I said I “loved” it and left a generous tip.

Because that’s just the British way.