Thursday, December 27, 2012

The One With Two Chocolate Flakes (or Number 99)


On the 17th December 2011, I went to the doctors and was diagnosed with a chest infection. It was a bad one and took out my entire Christmas holiday and I went back to school in the January not really fit for work. The subsequent 12 months have yielded a piss poor year of health, only made better by the fact that the thing I usually have problems with has been a good boy this year and has only briefly reminded me he is still there and prone to slippage; I just don't want to tempt fate any more than I already have...

Chest Infection #5, which as you know was Lou Bega's disastrous follow up single to Mambo #5, was diagnosed this morning. FIVE FUCKING CHEST INFECTIONS IN 375 DAYS!?!??!!! I am surely having some form of karma thrown at me by some pernicious cunt I used to know who decided on his/her own back a few years ago that because I had taken to shaving my head it was because I had cancer. As far as I know I haven't got it (and if I have it's probably one of those moles I have on my shoulder), but, you know, I might. However, at this moment in time, I don't really give a shit; at least it would explain why me and my chest have had a massive falling out this year.

I walks into the doctor's surgery, sits down and says, "I have had so many chest infections this year, I could go on Mastermind with it as my specialist subject." This made him laugh. It's always good to make a doctor laugh - they can be such earnest bastards at times. In fact, an aside, I haven't had one of them in ages...

Several years ago, a very good friend of ours met and fell in love with a doctor. We'll call him Doctor Martin because it sounds so cool (...) and our friend and DM got married. This was the early 1990s and I had been working on my Dead Girls book/story/proposal for a while and needed some professional input. DM knew my background - comics, drugs, fantasy - so it wasn't a huge stretch of the imagination to expect me as a curious person to ask odd questions. So when I finally popped the million dollar question - what would your reaction, as a doctor, be if the world suddenly had post modern zombies? (It was worded in a far more explanatory way at the time).

I didn't get an answer. He refused to give me one. He refused to even entertain the question. In fact, he got the right arse with me. The upshot was that the evening kind of died a death very quickly; there was no later explanation like his sister had once been a zombie or something; he was just that much of a hater of fantasy and the kind of thing that floated my boat that he refused to even get drawn into the subject. It was, actually, a gauntlet thrown down by him at our friend - I don't like your friends, don't invite them round my house again. Suffice it to say their marriage didn't last very long at all and I never got to find out what a doctor's reaction to zombies in real life would be; and the bastard never smiled.

Anyhow, my doc has put me on steroids (again), monster antibiotics (again) and told me to double up on my inhalers. I actually feel better already and with a bit of luck the second week of my holiday will be better than the first. He thinks my asthma is the main problem and the fact I've given up smoking (6 months on February 10th). He's not suggesting I start again, just that it's probably why I'm suffering and it'll all turn out fine in the end.

Fluff & Horse Sense

  • There will be a new entry over on later in the week; it's going to be a review of something I watched that ties in with the rest of that blog nicely.
  • I'm on G (but have had a break from it for a couple of days).
  • It isn't raining at the moment.
  • The nights are drawing out - huzzah!
  • I'll talk about Christmas when I can be arsed, but there's a couple of interesting (well, for me) things.
  • I also will do my usual slapdash half-arsed review of the year at some point.

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