Vache Folle

Thankfully this London flu, that has been a potential danger source (due to situation) with possible issue of immunity seems to be improving (in parts). The virus has now gone from my elbows (left and right) and is slowly leaving my shoulders but neck pain there is and, fever is down (whisper it so the sickness can't hear). It is still (unreasonably so) quite bad and danger levels are still existant (careful I tell myself). There is a huge battle going on inside my chest - and norks. The pennecillin won't really get in the trenches for 24 hours, but I can feel it's regiments preparing. I can hear orders being shouted (loud, authorative) and listen to the sound of anti-virus artillery. Soon they begin shelling and the game is afoot.

I am being looked after by kind, loving people who dote on me and respect my precious research and keep me from an early grave. My lawyers are still loyal and I have great faith in them to protect me.

I can see that SB (Squawking popinjays) continue in their wicked plots against me and will even put the lives of countless poor people at risk in their desperation. Their latest wheeze is to tell doctors to stop giving antibiotics for flu (click) - Too late I cry grasping my prescription, too late (in this they have not acted in a timely manner atall) and I continue with my treatment.

Hundreds of thousands of people have had this London flu but none (not one) has had it as bad as I (gentle me is immune to vicious vendetta virii and their malicious infectiviciouness) and my suffering has been most great. Not once have I complained about it. Taking it solidly on the chin (chin up girl and play the game). This is what raises me above the moaning minnies and the protesting plebs who whine and winge and whistle to the world about their (imaginary) aches and pains. Those who are really suffering (me) do not peep, blather or bluster.

I'm continuing to take my London pennecillin and suffering the London oxygen that is full of the London particles of pollution and pestilence, but soon I will see the London sun over the London sky in a very Londonish way.

Have you noticed that I keep referring to London? I hope so, it shows you've been a payer of attention. I know it can sound like a naff provincial who is out of their (water) depth and awestruck like a little Shirley Temple by being in a big city. That's not it. I am in my elements for only I know the (true) history of this London city and even yesterday had a (remarkable and deep) insight into whatever it was.

I've found a new hobby, despising the Middle Classes. That's why I've dropped out, tuned into secret history turned on to Whitechapel murder. I used to be Middle Class myself, but I'm not anymore. Phew that's a relief. I've also decided that I don't like sluts. you know the sort, the girls who will spend the night with a stranger at the turn of a (pretty) penny. The ones who get knocked up whilst still at school. The ones who flirt to get their (unscrupulous) ways. how I despise them. I also have a dark swamp feelings for anyone with a successful blog. How dare they. mine os a beautiful research gentle litery blog and gets, oh, tens of readers each month. how dare these bastards get more readers than I? They deserve what's coming to them (in every way). Even my hideous stalker is claiming they get more comments on a single post than I get all year. Bastards. London bastards. Raggle taggle ruminants. They'll be dropping down a rat infested London tunnel soon, just you wait like a miserable molecule of mildew.

In a move that is shocking (polite) society, some of these BBBB (bloody bastard book bloggers) have even been publiched. Jumping jehosophat with a purple bike, how on the name of all that is good in God's green earth did that calamity against reason occur (researchwise this publishing has no real justification)?.

There is only one (obvious) conclusion. SB and their poltroon publishings are deliberately giving these screeching harpics book deals in order to try (failingly) to sabotage my research publication (any day now).

All this is clear. This is a personal creative writer's blog, and does not necessarily resemble the form/analysis that goes into University re assignments, obviously; (this does not need explaining of course except to the sabtoage goons. :-) )

Have you got that you gibbering gibbons? Go away and smell your (own) poo.

London poo. The very worst there is.