The Pharaoh's Revenge

Current mood: grumpy & drowsy

My body is officially falling apart. Every one of my thirty one and a bit years has caught up with me. There is no chance of me getting a suntan and popping off to Malawi in the hope of being adopted by a celebrity now. I can't pass for a toddler anymore.

After successfully avoiding exercise all these years, so as to avoid contracting tennis-elbow, cricketer's knee, athlete's foot, jogger's earlobe, marathon runner's bladder, fußballer's wrist or triple-jumper's inner thigh. I have instead acquired darts player's stomach and fat bastard's back.

So it was off for a rare trip to the doctors on monday, though I assume I will be seeing the gorgeous wood panelling of the new Ringwood Health Centre a lot more regularly as my body disintegrates. A slipped disc was ruled out in favour of the usual muscle spasms. My aromatic feet were unsheathed for a reflex test and I was sent on my hobbling way.

As my stocks of spine-u-leve & vertebrofenol are now running low it's time for a slice of tea, a cup of self-pity & a sticky bun with a nurofen cherry, care to join me?


Currently listening: my agonising screams & The Information by Beck