DEREK JAMESON

These days it seems our daughters would rather be a vet than Florence Nightingale.

It is this lack of interest in nursing - nowadays open to men as well as women - that lies at the heart of the staffing crisis in our hospitals.

The situation is so critical that Worthing and Southland Hospitals even had to call on yours truly for help. You may have heard my gravelly tones over the airwaves urging nurses who have left the NHS to consider returning to work.

At Worthing Hospital, senior staff nurse Amanda Beamish told me the present crisis is not all about money. "We have an image problem," Amanda says. "Constant reminders that we are understaffed and overworked create the impression there's something wrong with nursing.

"Some people see us as bimbos in uniforms, handmaidens to the doctors. In fact, nurses are highly qualified medical practitioners, often called upon to make decisions affecting life and death."

Amanda, 26, spends one day off a week studying for a healthcare degree and another working as an agency nurse - often in the same job as her regular work.

Nursing agencies fill the gaps in hospital staffing. Most nurses sign on with agencies, earning more money for fewer hours.

Amanda earns about £300 for a 37-hour week, though she often works five or six hours' extra without overtime.

Often Amanda is in charge of 30 patients in Erringham ward, many with leukaemia. There are 24 nurses covering three shifts. They need at least another nine and five auxiliaries.

For all that, Amanda still manages to form a close relationship with her patients. Tender loving care is never absent, as I well know. My mother was in Worthing hospital with cancer just before her death ten years ago. Ellen's father died there 18 months ago.

"Yes, of course we get involved emotionally," says Amanda. "We laugh a lot but there are tears when we lose a patient."

What's the best thing about the job? "Not having to choose what to wear every day - though we'd like to be allowed trousers - and the hug and box of chocolates awaiting us when a patient goes home smiling."

Call 01903 285210 for details of the recruitment campaign.

IT'S good to see madcap Rik Mayall back at work after his brush with death last April when his quad bike fell on him.

But I would still like to know why he looks like Buffalo Bill when he's supposed to be Merlin the Magician.

We worked together years ago on a Granada TV pilot programme.

It came to nowt. I went back to newspapers and Rik and his mates were turned down because every other word began with f...

They subsequently became The Young Ones when the BBC decided to go where others feared to tread. Apparently it was okay to call everyone "bastard", but the f-word remained taboo.

These days it turns up several times a week in drama series, documentaries, even comedy shows.

Afar cry from the days when the brilliant critic and author Kenneth Tynan was blackballed by the media on becoming the first person to say f... on television.

MARGARET Thatcher wanted us to be shareholder in a property-owning democracy. John Major promoted a classless society. Now Tony Blair reckons we're all becoming middle class.

Three prime ministers, masters in the art of politics, and all of them without a clue as to what makes the great British public tick.

Whatever the politicians might think, people generally stay true to their origins. Class and status in this country are almost tribal. In one newspaper poll last week 83 per cent said they would remain working class, thank you very much.

Okay, we know all about social changes. Key industries like mining, steel and shipbuilding have gone and millions more have joined the service industries. More women are at work. The collar and tie has replaced the overall.

That doesn't make us all middle class. Attitude counts more than bank balance. In our class-ridden society, people tend to make up their own minds. The key factor is not where they are at, but where they come from.

Nothing annoys me more than to be called upper class. From cradle to grave I am working class and proud of it. Yet I left my tribe half-a-century ago on qualifying as a journalist and my earnings since place me firmly in the top drawer.

That's why people think I'm posh. What an insult. I have never bought shares, do my own shopping, prefer bread and cheese to pate de foie gras and call everyone "Darlin'".

Ieven have china ducks flying up the wall in the front room. You'll never change me, Mr Blair.

FRANK Bruno came down like a ton of bricks on Mike Tyson, claiming he was embarrassing and rusty in his weekend fight.

Well, Tyson still managed to demolish Frans Botha in five rounds with a knockout punch worth £20 million. Apparently it opens the door to bouts worth another £60 million.

You can call me any name you like for that kind of moolah, Frank.

Talking of which, I once did my best to persuade Frank to retire from the ring. "Okay, Del," he said, "just tell me where else I can pick up two million quid for an hour's work."

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