Last week I went to the Doctor. Being a real man, in every sense of the word, it must have been really fucking serious, because going to the Doc’s is such an effin’ chore. But I went because I needed the final instalment on my inoculations from the holiday. I know, I’ve been back ages and the incidence of Yellow Fever in the Hampstead environs is not exactly in epidemic proportions. But you have to complete the ‘course’ otherwise either that or Hepatitis, or whichever of the dozens required it was, won’t work, like forever. So I went for a jab. Hate jabs. And as the nurse was loading up syringes and blunting the needles on a stone (I know what those fucking sadists do), Mel, who was there with me, not just to stop me from running or crying but have her own final instalment, pipes up: “can we get flu jabs while we’re here?”

‘NOOOOOOOO!!!!’ I thought, don’t want a soddin’ flu jab, don’t want any more than I absolutely must have.

“Oh yes, pipes the nurse (aka: the jabbing bitch), we have some left over, I’ll get a couple”. What a heartless cow. So we got stuck in both arms. Grrrrrr.

Two days later, on the news, there’s a report on how totally fucking useless this year’s flu jab is. Less than 3% successful in preventing flu. Cos when they make the jab, back in last summer, they have to kind of guess what the strain of virus is going to look like the following winter. And they guessed wrong. So jabbed me with some rubbish placebo nonsense-vaccine. For 3% I’ll pass on the jab thanks very much. But too late.

And then I developed a cold. Thursday night. Had a terrible night, drowning in snot (nice) but I was again braver than Russell Crowe in Gladiator and went to work, took some paracetamol and braved what turned out a busy busy day. Went to bed last night, dosed up with ‘EXTRA DROWSY’ cold/flu meds and lay there sniffing for 7 hours sleeplessly. Mel was great and really concerned about my wellbeing, repeatedly saying: “STOP SNIFFING AND KEEP STILL!!!”

So this morning I went to Tai Chi. Why not. And felt better for it. Energised. So off to tennis and started hitting a few balls. Then after about ten minutes I started shaking. Most odd thing. Like palpitations, shaky limbs. “Well fuck dat!” I thought and ‘played through it’. Though ‘it’ didn’t end, just kept making me shaky and rather odd. And a half hour later I had to retire hurt. Which is right up there with ‘snagging my tights’ and ‘having my period’ as manly excuses go.

Spurs Paul understood. And sniggered, of course, as any man would do. So I came home and ate things. Feed a cold. Feed flu. Feed anything, anytime, anywhere.

Happy ManFlu Saturday

A xxxx