“NHS Think-Tank” sounds like a contradiction in terms, a bit like “Ryanair customer service”. The closest thing we have to a think-tank is the King's Fund, which hosts “interactive, multistakeholder events” and publishes documents such as this week's page-turner, Technology in the NHS.

It says that doctors can't do nerdy tech stuff. Damn right. I'm sitting in a black puddle after trying refill my printer's ink cartridge.

I don't know why people let us meddle with their vital organs when most of us still can't cope with our Sky Plus+ boxes. It's not only remote controls that faze us, we're not renowned for our keyboard skills either.

I dread meeting a patient with pseudopseudo- hyperparathyroidism or pneumonoultramicroscopic silicovolcanoconiosis, not because I'd miss the diagnosis but because it would take me the rest of the morning to type it into their medical record.

My slow, two-fingered typing also reduces the chances of you and I exchanging e-mails about prescriptions for bendroflumethiazide or phenoxymethylpenicillin to somewhere near zero.

I'm not completely techno-phobic. Unlike most NHS staff, I actually have an NHS e-mail address. The last time I checked I had 7,000 unread messages, mostly offering d1sc0unt Vi@gr@. Tony.copperfield@nhs.net is the address I type into dodgy websites to divert junk mail away from my real account.

Most NHS surgeries have IT systems that patients can access to book an appointment online. Only one surgery in ten actually uses it. Why? The last thing we need is punters surfing the web after midnight, deciding that they have an undiagnosed magnesium allergy, forwarding a copy of the website to us and blagging an urgent slot next morning.

We'd rather see little old ladies who don't have wi-fi broadband but who do have genuine symptoms. One suggestion is that you use your camera phone to photograph your skin rash, send the pictures to us and wait for your prescription.

This makes two ludicrous assumptions: that the picture will be in focus, and taken in brilliant sunshine.

Our local prison spent serious money on a CCTV set-up complete with studio lights so they could sit scabby inmates in front of the camera and broadcast live to our skin clinic. The problem is that most of the time we still can't tell scabies from scurvy.

And what I don't need is a blurry late-night vidcap of your orange rash with the caption, “Issit catchin'?” Put it on YouTube if you like, just don't bother sending it to me.

But what of the future? I'd love to sign repeat prescriptions electronically, rather than watching my signature deteriorate into some sort of graffiti artist's tag after the first 50. I'd like to be able to send patients their test results or reminders about appointments by text message too. And I'd really like patients to have some sort of smartcard for storing their main diagnoses and their current treatment.

Better still, just implant a silicon chip under the skin - it works for dogs. “My name is Dave, I live at the Old Rectory and take enalapril for my heart failure. I'm allergic to Septrin and like having my tummy tickled.” What more do I need to know?

Someone who appears to need serious psychiatric help, known only as “Department of Health spokesman” to avoid embarrassing his immediate family, said on the TV news that the NHS IT programme was “saving time, lives and money”.

Buddy, you can phone me, fax me, text me, mail me, anything to make sure you get an urgent appointment. Meanwhile, I'm afraid this report is going to the only piece of GP technology I've mastered, the gadget that turns documents like this into soft fluffy bedding for the family hamster: the shredder.

Dr Copperfield is a GP in Essex. He also writes for Pulse magazine and pulsetoday.co.uk

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