Dr Stroke survives messy removal op

Step forward Dr James Reilly — stroke specialist.

Despite never knowingly showing shyness about his own abilities before, this new area of the health minister’s expertise only came to light after it was diagnosed by fellow medic Dr Leo Varadkar, who noticed some tell-tale scaring on Reilly’s visage that he pinpointed as “looking like stroke politics”.

In denial about the disorder, Reilly sought a second opinion from Coalition head quack Enda Kenny — who has an honorary doctorate in delusional studies from the University of Turning A Blind Eye — and the Taoiseach soon dispensed an all-clear as he commended the health minister for doing everything “in the interest of the patients”.

Reilly has certainly done everything in the interest of the patients — in his own constituency, that is.

Because, with a stroke of Reilly’s ministerial pen, those patients — or to give them their specialist medical name, “voters” — received an extraordinary stroke of luck and got two of the five bonus primary care centres personally added to a short list by the health minister.

This amounts to a stroke of genius in terms of Reilly’s re-election prospects, but provoked a stroke of fear within other members of the Government, worried about how it all looked like a throwback to an unsavoury era of feather-bedding politics.

Long used to stroking his own ego, Reilly has been shaken by the recent unflattering reappraisal of him by junior health minister Roisín Shortall, who has an unusual way of communicating with her boss — namely, loudly denouncing him in public as a miserable failure at every chance she gets.

Indeed, the relationship between the dysfunctional duo is now so toxic they should really be known as Dr Heckled and Mrs Jibe.

But at least Reilly can still count on his other Labour junior Kathleen Lynch, who led him into leader’s questions yesterday looking part pitying nurse, part human shield.

As Nurse Lynch escorted Dr Stroke to his place it felt more like she was bringing him into theatre for an emergency operation as the opposition vied to try and slice him up.

Poor Reilly had to sit through the messy — and rather amateur — attempt to amputate him from the Cabinet without anaesthetic — but luckily, Enda’s rambling question-avoidance techniques are more than enough to send anyone soundly asleep.

Later, Shortall went to visit Reilly in his room for a little chat. Unfortunately, Nurse Lynch was not present to referee, which brought a whole new dimension to concerns about health and safety issues as the prickly pair were left alone together.

What with being named and shamed as a debtor, refusing to take responsibility for the cack-handed attack on frontline disability services, and now the primary care affair, a rather ugly self-portrait of Reilly has begun to emerge — one, naturally, painted in the broad brushstrokes typical of the man.