A word of warning to all those unborn children out there – don’t think being a foetus is going to save you from the government’s shameless social shake-up.

We’re all in this together, baby. Not content with crushing child benefit, saddling students with a lifetime of debt, and punishing pensioners with a later retirement age, it seems the ConDems have now set their sights on innocent newborns too. Thus ensuring we can all have a totally miserable Tory experience from cradle to grave.

I’m referring to this week’s scandalous news that the government is ploughing ahead with plans to close some of Greater Manchester’s most vital maternity units. Busy delivery wards at Salford Royal, Fairfield General in Bury and Rochdale Infirmary now all face the axe after a review of their closure came to nothing. The plans, to centralise 12 maternity units down to eight, have been vehemently campaigned against by mums and midwives, all concerned it could lead to fatal consequences.

Bury North MP David Nuttall was eager to jump on the baby bandwagon by pledging to save the Fairfield unit during his election campaign.

He was even being joined by health secretary Andrew Lansley in his promise to keep the services open if the Tories won.

Yet another case of “what’s pledged on the campaign trail stays on the campaign trail”.

Because, after dangling a potential lifeline review under our noses, they’re closing them down anyway. It would be ‘financially costly’ to delay apparently.

Of course, they’ll point to the fact the changes were earmarked under the last government – but their steamrolling ahead hardly does anything for their promise to put healthcare first does it?

Plus, you can say what you like about Labour MP Hazel Blears but she opposed the changes when she was serving as a cabinet minister.

Health bosses point out all kinds of justifications for the shake-up, mainly revolving around concepts such as centralisation and streamlining.

In response, I’d say, try these concepts on for size – poverty, depravation, health inequality and child mortality. Not just theoretical ideas but a reality for many of the babies born into our region.

Salford, in particular, is going to pay the biggest human price for these stringent maternity measures as it suffers some of the worst health inequalities in the country. It has the dubious honour of one of the highest number of low birthweight babies in the country.

Now mums with little means to spare will be asked to trek miles away for prenatal checks at Bolton. Those who can’t face extra health risks for themselves and their unborn babies. But, make no mistake, potential parents from all backgrounds across the city could suffer.

In this era of hippy home births, posh birthing pools and whale music we all seem to be complacently overlooking one crucial fact in this whole case – childbirth can be a deadly business.

Advances in modern technology may have made marvellous inroads into mother and baby mortality rates. But the UK is still a shocking 23rd place in a global league table when it comes to women dying in labour.

Anything that puts more time and distance between a woman having a baby and specialist health care can only be a backward step with potentially fatal ramifications.

Sadly, this is one case where I hope it doesn’t take a real-life example to prove me right.

I’d love to spend Fergie time with Sir Alex

THERE aren’t many footballers that make me go weak at the knees, with the obvious exception of Ryan Giggs – who is a god both on and off the pitch with his goal-scoring prowess and New Man yoga-loving ways.

No, for me, it’s all about Sir Alex Ferguson. So, I needed little excuse to raise a glass to his 24th anniversary as United boss this weekend – putting him just six weeks away from Sir Matt Busby’s record as the club’s longest-serving manager of all time.

Of course, there are plenty of sporting reasons to fall at his feet.

But, having met the chewy-chomping curmudgeon in his training shorts at Carrington – and seen those knobbly knees up close – he tops my league of footie legends for another reason.

Answering my questions about that horrific car crash that saw his grandson seriously ill in hospital, he struck me as a fiercely protective family man, sparking a sudden longing to adopt him as my grandad.

Just imagine, all those bedtime stories about beating the Blues, the extra Fergie Time he’d wangle for your homework – and you’d never need a hairdryer.

Now all I need is for him to retire so we can start hanging out together.

Poking fun at the Palace

WHAT’S that I hear – the final nail in the coffin of cool for Facebook?

Today’s the day Her Madge – and we’re not talking Madonna, but Queenie herself – launches her own page on the social network site. One’s so down with the common people.

Sadly, security settings mean none of us mere mortals will be able to have the pleasure of saying we’ve been “poked” by our monarch. Neither will we be able to add her to our list
of friends.

Well, at least that removes the etiquette nightmare of worrying what to do if she’d sent me a friend request.

No offence ma’am but I don’t just accept anyone you know.

Thrillingly, the British Monarchy page will include news, speeches, and the Court Circular. That’s not making the Royal Family cool, it’s just spoiling everyone else’s fun. A bit like someone’s nan poking her nose into your profile.

Unless, of course, HRH falls into the same Facebook traps as the rest of us addicts – posting late night updates after one too many damson gins.

In which case, I’m looking forward to seeing her tagged belting out Diamonds Are A Girls Best Friend on the karaoke at Bucks Palace.

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