Hak, kaff-kaff (ii)

[caddyman]

Dosed up with vast amounts of paracetamol and awash with gallons of orange juice I don't feel too bad right now, though the old stomach is sore with coughing and sneezing. The worst part is after lying down for a few minutes when the lungs start making noises and feeling somewhat akin to discarded crisp packets filled with porridge.

Apart from feeling tired, I don't actually feel all that ill, but enough gunk is coming up to persuade me otherwise. I'm sure there's a pocket watch in the handkerchief somewhere. I think I need a specialised meddy that keeps my snot glands dry in the old hooter, whilst maintaining a certain moistness to the lungs allowing the expectorant cough syrup to scour its merry way through my system.

Intelligent design? Don't make me laugh. If we were designed we'd have blow holes on the back of our leads like dolphins and such so that everything didn't have to go down the same set of tubes.

See, I warned you, didn't I?