THIS week’s column is brought to you in association with a boatload of tablets and cough medicine after I was cruelly struck down by man-flu at the back end of last week.
I’m certain it was the deadliest strain I’d picked up, and at one stage I felt so bad I thought I might even have to stay in on Saturday night.
I got a great deal of sympathy at work, with my colleagues giving me a wide berth as I coughed and spluttered my way through the day and sat there helpless as my voice turned into a Stephen Hawkins impersonator.
As my temperature rocketed one minute and plummeted the next, I had no option but to visit a well-known out of hours health centre to get myself sorted.
The waiting room was a bit like being in the Jeremy Kyle show, I had a bloke sitting opposite me who was clearly in pain with a bad foot, but his missus was doing her best to give him an ear condition as well as she constantly nagged him and called him a doyle and a rarf.
There was a young mum in with the world’s biggest buggy containing three kids of varying sizes. I don’t know if there was a book-one-get-two-free offer on appointments that day but all three of them looked like they needed a doctor judging by the amount of snot and screaming coming from the pushchair.
There was another fella in who was determined he was the illest gadgy in the town that day, and every time someone’s name was shouted out that wasn’t him he came up with a swear word before huffing and puffing and questioning how they’d been seen before him.
I was dying to tell him it was a good old fashioned queuing system, but I didn’t want him to swear at me.
To top it all off, there was a woman in with women’s problems who clearly wasn’t fussed who heard what was wrong with her.
She was sat there on her mobile going through her contacts telling everyone all about it, as soon as one person had been told, she just scrolled down to her next mate in the address book and they got chapter and verse as well.
Anyway, as my 45-minute wait turned into a two-hour slog, I ended up playing a game of Guess the Ailment as people continued to pour in.
I’ve been dying to know if loud-phone woman got the cream she was after, but she’d gone by the time I’d been seen to.
I hope she’s better, and she can count herself lucky she’ll never get man-flu.