Manflu

'Pass me the remote please honey...'

I've been having a fairly miserable week so far. I'm off work, taking a weeks holiday, and typically I've fallen ill with the dreaded manflu.

I'm over the worst. Tuesday and Wednesday were the worst with coughing fits, a nose running like Niagara falls, headache and a sore body. I rarely fall ill, but when I do it knocks me for six. My wife has been great, looking after me and worrying about me. It should be me looking after her. After all she is heavily pregnant, but I did manage to carry the hoover up the stairs for her the other day!

I've just remembered I had some 'homework' to do for work that I promised I would complete and send in by 9am this morning. Too late to be worrying about it now, I'll just take the beating when I get back to work. Such is life...

I was dragged out the house yesterday to get some 'fresh air' as I hadn't ventured out the door in three days. I didn't enjoy it.

So to the point of my dribbling post...

Manflu. Or any kind of man illness.

Our wimmen folk take great delight in pointing out that us men can't handle being ill and that the fairer sex seem to cope better with illness. I agree wholeheartedly. And there is a scientific* reason for this.

It goes back in time to the hunter gatherer days of the stone age. The men folk would risk their lives just leaving the cave to go hunting woolly mammoth and sabre tooth tigers. So they had to be 100% fit. Coughs. aches. pains and a runny nose would mean CERTAIN DEATH. Thus any minor illness would hit the male side of the species harder, flooring us, than the female side who could quite happily carry on hoovering the cave with a bad cold.

So ladies, there you have it. Your menfolk aren't milking it when they are ill. It all goes back to the days of Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble. Honest!

*probably. And if there isn't there should be...


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