Rumpelstiltskin and the Dormice of Doom . . . . The Quiz Team

As I continue to wallow in my state of less that one hundred percent fitness as I fight off the side effects of Man Flu, by rubbing goose fat and barnacles on my chest. That Wikipedia is full of useful tips from the medical cupboards of wise old Victorian Housewives and withered gentlemen of the road. I have decided that the lucidity of my mind is now sharp enough (today anyway) to write something useful on my blog. O yes some say that it is a lie and that I am still as barking as a mad grumpy puffin in a seafood restaurant, but what I say to them is . . . . . . . AH HAHAh ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ahahahah hah ah ha ha hah Haddock, Kippers and Fish Pie HA HAHAHAH ha ah h ah ah a ha hah ah ah aahhah ah a. . . . . .  and you cant argue with that. 

Last night despite my frail state and delirious mind I was part of a four person quiz team along with Mrs Ghost Writer, Mr Charlie and Miss Jane where we were up against thirteen other teams answering questions on all sorts of stuff. I was given the opportunity to name our team so I called it . . . Rumpelstiltskin and the Dormice of Doom. . . I have always thought quiz teams need intimidating names in order to wrong foot the opposition.  It was an interesting quiz with some very difficult questions but by half way we found ourselves in second place. After a rather good meal of Sheppard’s Pie and French bread all inclusive in the modest price of five pound a head, we leapt into action for part two of the quiz. And at the end found that we had managed to hang onto second place even though by then I was insisting that either Elvis or Seagulls or Nutmeg was the answer to every question.  The team that won actually won by a huge margin, but did have five members so I was able to establish mathematically that we had actually answered more questions per team member and so were really the winners.

This morning I was forced out yet again because I have foolishly volunteered to be a first responder for the village’s defibrillator, I say foolishly because I would not let me near me with a device that zaps folk. Anyway today was our training day but the man who was going to train us did not turn up and now we all have to turn up again tomorrow. I am not sure I will be able to catch the cat again tomorrow quite so easily, so that I have something to practice on.  There was a local funeral today as well so we have now missed our opportunity to revive the body….

Once I am fully aware of my surroundings again I will delve into the world of those big questions that folk hesitate to ask or answer . . . Things like. . . . Where did all this paranoia about walking on the cracks in the pavements come from. . . .  and. . . Why do cats sit in boxes. . . .

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.

  

Man Flu . . . . . . . DAMN

Damn it the bug (Man Flu) has got hold of my mind so I am abandoning my daily diary entry for today something I do not do lightly, I say that because I had started it in stone and using a nice sharp chisel and a proper stonemasons hammer. I thought it might improve my typing as I get time to think between letters although the spell checker does not appear to work and errors are a problem..

But the brain is flagging now as the evening draws on so I am going to go to bed and play Zombie, OK I am going to lie on the bed and go AAAaauuuuuuuuuggggghhhhHHHH a bit. Before I go I should say that on the subject of Zombies Sooty the Cat arrived back earlier covered in mud from head to tail AGAIN and rather scared so he looked like a zombie cat that had seen a zombie. If he keeps using lives up this fast he might end up as a Zombie

Good night all

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