Thankfully, Stevens is unlikely to indulge in the same delusional fantasies about the state of his service. He already warned the public accounts committee in September of this “incredibly financially challenging period”, and “incredible” is the word he should cleave to. As every trust is forced to produce a financial plan that balances on paper, most – in private – admit these are fairy-tales; Chris Hopson of NHS Providers makes plain these pigs won’t fly. Hunt relies on threats and micro-managing. Just yesterday he put another three debt-ridden trusts into “special measures” to warn others their heads will be on Whitehall spikes. But there’s safety in numbers: he can’t sack them all.

Theresa May has said there is no more money: the NHS must save £22bn by 2020, despite three quarters of trusts being up to their ears in debt and missing waiting targets by miles. If she could cut police costs by 20%, why can’t the NHS, she asks. Because crime has dropped like a stone over recent decades while NHS need heads skywards, with growing numbers of the old, and collapsing social care. She risks a brutal brush with NHS reality before long.

But that’s not all. By Friday all 44 areas have to produce a sustainability and transformation plan (STP), unleashing vehement local protest against any mergers or closures.

After Lansley’s catastrophic 2012 act blew the NHS into myriad competing fragments, this re-reorganisation was meant to repair the damage and glue the fractured parts together again – a good idea. Stevens devised STPs to bind each area into a single unit, combining GPs, mental health and hospital services in one budget as a coherent whole. That might mean amalgamating maternity or A&E departments, rationalising stroke or cardiac care. Good idea, in theory.

But these plans collide with the £22bn “savings”, so how will local people trust the good intentions of these plans? NHS England has rightly taken fright: the Health Service Journal reveals there have been orders requiring each area to send every STP announcement to the headquarters communications team to make sure they “articulate tangible benefits for patients” in language that is “clear and compelling”. But it may take more than “compelling” language to assuage local fears.

Few of these plans have yet been agreed, allowing rumours and fears to fester – and when they do emerge, the government can expect no backing, not even from their own MPs and councillors. Expect every politician, irrespective of party, to dash to join the local “Save Our Hospital” demo. Any who pause to suggest some plans might be good for patients will be mown down in the stampede. Bandwagon campaigners will join every protest, regardless.

A cluster of hospital protesters went to Downing Street and the Commons last week, with petitions about closures from Barnstaple, Dewsbury, Chorley, Huddersfield, Grantham and St Helier. Each has their own circumstance, so it’s well-nigh impossible for local people to know which units should be “saved” and which rightly closed.

Among them were protesters about the Horton hospital in Banbury. At last week’s prime minister’s questions, the Tory MP for North Oxfordshire, Victoria Prentis, asked an impassioned question: “Does the prime minister share my sadness that the majority of Banbury’s babies cannot be delivered, as I was, at the Horton general hospital? Will she join with me to put pressure on the trust to reopen the unit?” The PM replied: “Every effort is being made …”

Horton swears they’ve moved heaven and earth to hire doctors but none would come: there’s a 24% vacancy rate
The Horton maternity unit closed abruptly this month after failing to hire middle-grade doctors, leaving a midwife-led unit. Part of the Oxford University Hospitals, its HR director swears they have moved heaven and earth to hire doctors but none would come: there’s a 24% vacancy rate in the district. The Horton obstetric unit lost its validation for training doctors as too few babies were being born there to qualify, so junior doctors won’t apply. They are still advertising, promising to reopen if they can recruit. Managers spell out the situation in painstaking detail, answering every possible query. But all this is to no avail.

A vociferous local Keep the Horton General campaign gathered 5,000 people to hold hands round the hospital, amid longstanding suspicions that it might be axed despite a plan to rebuild it. Every party supports the protest, with their Tory MP as militant as the rest. She says she doesn’t trust the management: “They make decisions about us without us.” She and the campaigners mistrust whatever they are told.

The Banbury Guardian relishes the story, as the local press always does. “It’s lovely how the community has come together,” Prentis says. Banbury businesses are offering any obstetric doctor recruited free shirts, free beer, cheap accommodation and discounted fees at a local private school. A packed meeting roasted NHS managers about the journey time for mothers in labour to travel to the John Radcliffe in Oxford. Nothing creates such feelgood community cohesion as a local NHS threat.

Talking to both sides, I am inclined to believe the managers’ good faith. But with deeper cuts scheduled for the years to 2020, can anyone know for certain where they might fall? At the Witney byelection, the Horton and other Oxfordshire NHS closures feature prominently. How Tory MPs get away with it beats me: they voted for these NHS cuts.

Watch this pattern repeated around the country as STP plans unfold. “Clear and compelling” language may not be enough when the NHS professionals, even the doctors, struggle to be believed. In the fog of war, with suspicions rife, local people have no way of detecting the good plans from dangerous cuts. As Stevens warned MPs: “Let’s be clear, there are going to be significant challenges, there will be choices, there will be controversies.”