We Will Fight Them on the Couch

Oh dear, it's not often that I'm awake and/or of clear thought at 1:30AM on a Tuesday morning. Something must be wrong, and indeed it is.

I was wondering why in the last few days I've been feeling a bit down, off my feed, a bit of a grumpy bum. And then yesterday (Monday) I felt a strange and uncomfortable sensation in the back of my throat that no amount of ahem's seemed to shift. A curious soul as always, a torch and the bathroom mirror has revealed what I suspected, the telltale signs that the dreaded tonsilitis plague has come to town. It seems to visit very infrequently (probably 10 years since the last) but it's like a child-hood friend that you don't really like but seems to always visit at the wrong moment.

So, being a man of action, first thing is to call in my apologies to work tommorrow morning as sick leave is for just such occasions, present myself across the road to my local GP for a professional opinion on cause/remedy, and then purchase a small pot of red paint for the purpose of putting a large red cross on my front door.

I have been described during periods of illness, as being a rotten sod. I can accept that, in fact I would agree to it. I feel it's a persons right to be unjolly during these trying circumstances. Unsociable too, indeed very unsociable.

Very well, you vile microorganisms, you've picked the wrong chap to mess with. Oh yes, you may number in the millions perhaps billions and I number but one, but prepare for the first big battle of the second decade of the 21st century. At the risk of sounding crude, your arses (if they have arses?) are mine.