Tuesday, November 21, 2006


Hullo people. Thanks to the millions upon millions of you who entered the Put-A-Caption-To-The-Picture-Of-Jacques-Tati competition. I'm still sifting through all the postcards (and answers on the back of a sealed down envelope, as stipulated) at this moment in time, and it's hard work, believe me.

Unfortunately, on the last night of the Lost Weekend And A Bit in Ghent I got a really painful sore throat and about three hours sleep. This has since developed into a bad cold/touch-of-flu.

I now feel as if my head has been chopped off, a rocket stuck in the neck which exploded and landed on a racecourse where the hooves of thirty galloping horses trampled it underfoot, then it was retrieved by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, then put in a tasty stew with some other offal of dubious origin, then retrieved again after simmering for eight hours and stuck back onto my neck with a staple gun.

Besides which, my mouth is full of bubbling lava, so every time I fell asleep last night it felt as though I was choking to death and I woke up again in a state of panic. Happy days!

Anyway, I'll reply to your comments on the previous post and announce the winner of the competition when I'm capable of writing something even vaguely intelligible. Otherwise it'll just sound like Bee Gees' lyrics, and you wouldn't want that, would you?

I lay awake for much of last night with my head throbbing and throat burning, so I think I'm getting the same thing, except my writing is as coherent as Madonna's lyrics i.e. not remotely.
No, Betty, we wouldn't want that. You just concentrate on staying alive.
Sweet Betty, here is your prescription for recovery.
Just stay in bed for hours and hang around doing nothing and watch loads of old movies on the telly.
Remove all pressure and wait.
I think Tom must be a doctor, I second what he said.

word ver=ggghwu

sounds like a phlegmy sneeze to me
You haven't had too much of that old Flemish dressing have you Betty?

I've been in bed with a swelling myself.
Lost Boy - oh no, that sounds horribly familiar. Best stock up on boxes and boxes of tissues - my nose is dripping onto the floor if I don't have a tissue to hand at the moment (er, apologies to anyone eating at present).

Vicus - I'll try, but I'm suffering from Saturday Night Fever ... or at least Tuesday Afternoon Fever. I think I may have to shoot myself after that.

Tom - oh, if only ... there's a pile of ironing the size of Ben Nevis to get through. I'll just have to catch up with sleep when I'm dead then.

Realdoc - considering the break I've just been on, it may be a Flemy sneeze. My sides are splitting.

Murphmeister - get well soon. Best apply a poultice, wait for it to get heady and then get it lanced (apologies to anyone eating. Again.)
If you upscale it to bird flu, I reckon you could get out of doing the washing up for at least a month.

Hope the Flemish phlegm clears up soon.
Ha! I've just got Vicus's "Staying Alive, Staying Alive"!

The man is a national treasure.
I mentioned to Geoff about a low dive in Ghent called 'The Microbe'.
I see you went there.
Hope you soon recover from your Belgian Bug.

Sorry. Random Bee Gee outburst.
Kellycat - on the whole, I think I'd rather do the washing up than get bird flu. Only just, though.

Murphmeister - if Vicus is a national treasure, can we still vote for him in the Culture Show's Best Living British Icon?

Kaz - actually, we looked out for The Microbe but couldn't find it, or any of the restaurants recommended in the Rough Guide. Perhaps we weren't in Ghent after all.

Boz - be away with you, with all your jive talkin', tellin' me lies.
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