Sunday, 4 January 2015

Of Mice and Man Flu . . . . .

As some or possibly none of you will know. . . No some of you will because I have let it be known, I am suffering slightly with Man Flu. Now I could do the true brit stiff upper lip thing as say. . . ITS only a mere scratch and will not make a bit of difference and soldier on, but hey I’m a man (O YES I AM) with Man Flu so I have decided that is not the thing to do. I mean what will the other chaps with Man Flu say if I let the side down and don’t turn into a gibbering idiot talking complete nonsense while crashed out in a cosy chair drinking tea, eating left over Christmas Chocolate Santa’s and maybe watching mindless television while groaning that only another chaps understand Man Flu. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  Actually I might avoid the mindless television; I am not quite that bad yet.

So I have decided to write a delirious blog post as my brain drifts in and out of its battle with this highly underrated (by anyone who is not a chap) affliction that us chaps get.  My first problem though is how do I known I am delirious or not, it’s not as simple as it might appear. I have tried shouting Aaaaauuugghhh no get it away from me its terrible all those legs and pointy teeth, but it was made very clear that there was nothing with legs or pointy teeth anywhere to be seen and my rambling argument that it is hiding under the sofa was met with YOU ARE AN IDIOT rather than you are a delirious genius with Man Flu I will get you more tea and some cake. . .

As for the cats they are rubbish and as sympathetic as a cat who is hungry and wants his dinner. . . I have told the cat he can eat the terrible thing under the sofa with pointy teeth and many many legs.  But no it wants his proper food and not the cheap stuff but the posh stuff in a clean bowl served using a silver spoon while I overt my eyes from his looks of anger.

I’m sure that there is some terrible thing under the sofa I will groan loudly and point a finger in a pathetic way at the remains of a party popper sticking out and indicate that I think the terrible thing is making a nest and is out to get me while I am weak and feeble-ish.

As for drawing well there is no chance of a fresh drawing until my arms return to their original weight and I am able to lift them more than a few inches. I have asked for a straw saying that my mug does not reach my mouth due to some alien force field or I may have been bitten by that beast under the sofa.  It appears these are not good things to tell the local doc at the end of a phone when they ask for symptoms, and a useful tip for other chaps is don’t tell a female doctor that its OK for her she cant get Man Flu so will never truly understand. . .  I mean Paracetamol what sort of a response is that. . . . . . . .

AAAAUUUGHHHH No its on the ceiling now and glowing at me with its terrible eyes and it is posed to pounce or leap or maybe drop onto my head and suck my brains out . . . . . . AAuuuuuuggghhhhhh. . . . .

WHAT . . . . Ceiling light, I can’t believe that the next thing I’ll get told is that the switch on the wall will turn it out . . . . . . WOW it did . . .  or maybe it didn’t and I am in a delirious state and it really is some beast with glowing eyes about to attack

Aaaaaauugghhhh I think I need more tea and Christmas Chocolate Santa’s  . . . .

Groan . . .  and a straw. . . . . . and a piece of cake with hundreds and thousands on. . . . and I cant quite reach the TV remote.



  1. too am suffering with the dreaded man flu!
    Working with the public means I have to deal with the consequences of other peoples coughs, splutters and sneezes.
    I am now on my second bottle of foul tasting medicine, 4th packet of tissues and 1023rd packet of lozenges.
    I have drunk enough lemsips to sink a battleship and hacked up enough phlegm to make it float again.

    I made the mistake of saying I was feeling a little bit better today and so everyone else has said they are taking the rest of the week off (only just realised it's monday tomorrow! - the cheeky so and so's).

    If there was such a thing as womens flu I bet we'd get a lot more sympathy!

    Get well soon Rob.

    1. I have to go into town today and I plan to visit Boots the Chemist and see if I can find the rare man assistant so that I can whisper in his ear Man Flu and see if he has something I can slip into me discretely in the evening. . .

      Hang on that sounds all a bit wrong, I of course refer to a cough mixture of some sort.

    2. TOP TIP: Do NOT buy beechams honey and lemon... I had one last night and nearly turned inside out with disgust.
      My body shuddered so much I immediately felt better through fear of the thought of having to have another one. YUK!

    3. Well the trip to Boots the Chemist turned out to be a waist of time as I arrived just as the Pharmacist and the Manager were having an argument, so I sort of got told I was perfectly OK and to suck a purple chewy thing . . . Apparently they are rubbish and do nothing. . . . that's the purple chewy things and possibly the staff in Boots the Chemist. . . Al least they were cheap.

    4. Purple Cheap .or. Cheap Purple
      I am trying to decide which of those two is the better name for a rock band.

      I am cold. That is how I am at this moment. It could also be the title of that rock band's first single.

  2. (I'm a bit late again Mr Z, stupid wordpress Reader, is neglecting to show all recent posts)

    Remember Mr Z, that all proceeds from the charity single "Pass "The Remote, I'm Dying," will go to eradicate this harmful affliction.

    It's funny, because when I had lady flu, it was at a time when the lil man needed new shoes. There were no buses, so I had to pop him on my back and carry him all the way to Asda, which is not local. Then when I got there, the shelves were empty as all the male staff had also gone down with Manflu. I had to restock all the shelves and price and catalogue each item, before stocking up the fridges. When that was done, I realized that they didn't have the lil man's shoe size. So along with my Elf friends, we cobbled into the day and night to come up with some suitable footwear attire. I then had to carry the lil man and the Elves home, as by that time, they too had come down with the man plague and cook them all some chicken broth. But because the chicken I needed was suffering from avian flu, I had to fly all the way to the Isle of Fernando's, where they do a lovely Piri Piri Chicken Masala. Once home, I fed the troops as they were in danger of wasting away, gathered some coal from the mines, cleaned the chimneys and then gave birth to my next door neighbour's child.

    Hope you feel much better soon Mr Z.

    1. You can see where the old saying. . . . Behind every great man there lies a Woman . . . . comes from and I'm sure it must be true. Because that sounds like a bit of a white lie Miss Lily, I am sure the Isle of Fernando's dont do a lovely Piri Piri Chicken Masala . . . or maybe I just had it on a bad day when the cook was down with Man Flu

    2. I agree with Rob about the 'a woman' and 'great' and 'lies'.

  3. Question: If manflu is when men have a cold but exaggerate the effects to make it seem like they have the flu, I wonder what a mancold would be.

    1. Exaggerate . . . . us Brits would never do such a thing, Man Flu is terrible over here. Luckily we are hardy beasts, a result of long cold wet summers and cold wet winters. So we laugh in the face of such adversity. . . Well when I say laugh I may mean groan and crawl into bed mumbling stuff about cups of tea and hot buttered toast.

      I dont think I've had a mancold it sounds bad though......

    2. There needs to be a po em with mancold, manifold and pan of gold in it.
      I s'ppose it could have a mix of Panama, banana, and bandana to go with it.
      But only if it is properly and purposely pre-fragmented & post-fitted.

    3. I like the flow of the words Mr ESB as would any decent chap in Corfu with ManFlu eating Fish Stew reading poetry on a hill with a nice view.

    4. Sausage Spaghetti Semi-Sumptuous Satisfaction Seasoned Spicedly

      Suffering CerebriaLLy