Trust the NHS to take the worst elements of the private sector

After driving around the hospital grounds in concentric circles until I was surely down a wormhole, I found the scanning unit. It was shoehorned down a narrow alley and had four parking spaces outside its door, all of them empty, but the sign above them was clear:

‘Private parking, wheel-clamping in operation.’ It did not say patient parking. Most likely, with a sign like that, it was staff parking.

I looked around and realised I was stuck down a dead end. My only option was to reverse backwards, craning my neck around because the old Volvo long ago ceased to have functioning beepers. As my neck was the reason I was having a scan in the first place, it was somewhat ironic that I now found myself twisting it beyond endurance in order to reverse the entire length of a hospital campus that was lined with cars all the way, with nowhere to turn around until I rejoined the main road.