Man Flu Matters

I woke up today to something awful. A bone-deep lethargy. Blocked sinuses. A headache like a giant was pounding on my head with a steel shod hammer.

Yes. I am talking about the dreaded

Some people dare say - Does Man Flu exist? Buffoons!

Look at the state of above? That is science. I am a fucking mess. What more evidence is needed?

Being the strong-minded sort I went to work. No phoning in sick for me. Oh no. I am the essence of Man. So I heaved myself in.

Granted the coughing, sneezing and occasional moans on the train drew a few dirty glances but I didn't mind. The peons have ever despised and envied greatness in equal turn.

Upon arriving at work I made sure that everyone knew of my condition so as they may protect themselves as best as they could. Yes, I am a generous soul.

I would like to say that in no time at all people were rushing to my aid. Offering warmed honeyed drinks perhaps with some cinnamon and Reiki- style foot rubs.

Alas no. Instead, the odd drab person wandered past my desk and looked at the mound of hankies surrounding me like a larger lady's wedding dress.

Check the state of you! You on the ran-dan last night?

The ran-dan indeed. Where was the sympathy?! Instead, all that was on offer was the occasional smack on the shoulder and jovial exclamation of

Man Flu! You've got it bad big yin*

_{*Big Yin (Big Man) is a faux-respectful term given to someone that you despise here in Scotland. By saying, Big Yin, you are implying respect when we all know You mean *yer a fanny}

_{*yer a fanny - In Scottish means You are a vagina}

At one point a work mate, came by with another acquaintance. I looked up, ah, was the sympathy cavalry arriving?

HA, check the state of Boom Dawg. What a shambles!

I grimaced and ignored them. After all, the bigger man here was the fellow who had made it in despite medical science believing it an impossibility that someone in my state was able.

Lunchtime came and went. I didn't eat. Instead, I lolled about in my chair like a puppet with half its strings cut. Murmuring under my breath and coughing. No one sent me home.

After not being sent home all day eventually it was time to leave.

I girded my loins and dragged myself whimpering piteously to the train. I found a seat next to an old man in a suit. After I had sneezed and loudly blown my nose for the fourteenth time he stood up and uttered.

Before stamping away to another part of the carriage. It was a good job for him that I wasn't at my physical best or I would have thrown him out of the window with a cheery shout of THERES YER DINNER

I opened the door to my house with a sigh, dropping my bag beside the door and staggering manfully to the couch in the lounge where I collapsed in a heap.

A vision appeared before me. A beauty, surely this was some kind of fevre dream kicking in?

She nudged me What's wrong with you? Was it me or did this beauteous vision sound a little... impatient?

I am pure ill baby, think I need to go to my bed

She gazed at me with those eyes. Those eyes that had made me fall in love over and over again. Those eyes that set me on fire every time. Such caring love and devotion in those eyes. Here I had found hope after a day of bastardry.

You're just rough from drinking three nights in a row. You obviously cannae handle it anymore. Now, get your arse in the kitchen and help with dinner.

I looked at her balefully thinking, What, who cannae handle it anymore? I'll show you

I hauled myself up and shot her my best martyr look and headed off to the kitchen.