A Different Kind of Sick Blog

Hello loyal follower/random passer-by/Facebook Friend that clicked a link; how are you today?

Enough with the pleasantries you tossers, I don’t really care how you feel today because I feel like shit. Not just any regular shit, but proper shit, really fucking shitty. You know them shits that you take and then examine for a good five minutes before you flush, while thinking; “Now that’s a shit!” well that’s how I feel at this instant. Right now I’m sat quarantined in my bedroom with the curtains drawn, lights off, surrounded by brittle, discarded tissues like some 13-year-old virgin that’s just discovered PornHub. I’m not in an emotional state in case that’s what you were wondering, I’m not mulling around in darkness because of feelings of guilt. Guilt is for convicted paedophiles and embarrassed MPs and I’m neither of them ... yet. I’m wallowing in a sea of self-pity because I’m ill. Not just ill though; infected.

I don’t get “poorly-sickies”, easily. It’s quite a surprise that my immune system is able to keep me safe guarded from the many viruses floating around the contaminated public that inhabit Derby, due to my complete lack of staying healthy and continued consumption of alcohol randomly discovered on the street. The pure fact that I spent 99.9% of my life disease-free should be viewed as a medical mystery. But on those off occasions that a Trojan Horse penetrates my Firewall, not even a [Spyware] Doctor can remove the Infection. Sometimes I wish humans were more like computers, so that when we did fall victim to some sickness we could just System Restore to a previous day or turn ourselves off and start from Last Known Good Configuration. Plus if women were more like computers it’d be much easier to turn them on [Hey lads, am I right? Or what?] and they’d be easier to boot up [although domestic violence is wrong, no matter how drunk you claim to be].

What makes this matter worse is that today is my day off. One of the very few times I get to spend relaxing, sitting around doing nothing and I’m stuck inside; relaxing and sitting around doing nothing... while being ill. There’s a massive difference in there, somewhere, because now instead of watching random videos and YouTube in my boxers, I’m watching videos on YouTube in my boxers coughing up chunks of phlegm that could drown a kitten, small dog or a new born child. Detainees at Guantanamo Bay had it piss easy compared to my current situation. Suffragettes can suck a dick; I’m the one that’s suffering here.

My sinuses are more blocked than the A38 in rush hour. My oesophagus feels as if I’m deep-throated a spiked bat. I’m dripping sweat like a chunky porn star in a steam room scene. My skeleton aches like someone’s been into my room last night and stolen all my fucking bone marrow to sell on the black market. I’ve got pale mucus slithering out of orifices I didn’t even know I had. And loads of other shitty analogies that I’m too tired to think of...

Now I’m off to cram in a bunch of Halls and Soothers in my month in an attempt to nullify my gullet long enough to enjoy a smoke.