So Hello January!
You total fucking bastard.
I manged to go a whole year without picking up so much as a graze, a throaty tickle or a sniffle. I was unbreakable. Exactly like Bruce Willis in Sixth Sense. I was a superman, an ubermensch, an untouchable!
And you’ve gone and thrown all that, all those dreams away. I’m back among the plebian masses, shivering, huddled and poor. My disease spewing forth like foul liquid tentacles of green-black bile. The fetid swamps in the deepest jungles know nothing of the foul hovel of incubation my shattered and pus-encrusted form has become. The most squalid corpse heap in the darkest night of london’s greatest plague is like an ocean of angelic bleach compared to the diseased ooze urging forth from all my terrible orifices.
Yes. I have a man cold.
I hate January.