Time To Get Ill
Oh, hello! How you doing? Sorry I've not posted owt for a while, but I've been really busy. Also, I couldn't be arsed. Nevertheless, I'm here now so you might as well drop the attitude, stop scowling and make yourself comfortable. Okay? Okay.
Reader, I've been ill. No, don't panic - nothing serious, just a two-week cold, a sinus infection, a sore throat and the occasional night-terrors. I'm on the mend now, you'll be glad to hear, but there was a brief spell at the beginning of last week where I suspected I was a goner. I fought back though, and I'm not far off doctors giving me the all-clear. The moaning minnies in the terminal wards could learn a lot from me, I tell thee.
So as you'll see, I've taken my illness with characteristic verve. It'll take more than a cold to take the cut out of my jib! However, one thing I am not prepared to take lying down is that God singled me out for illness in the first place. WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?!
I can't pretend to lead the life of a saint, but I'm kind to animals, I don't spit on the homeless and if there were more disabled people involved in my life, I'd be sure to treat them peachy, so who the holy fuck does God think he is striking me down with illness and affliction?! If he thinks he's doing a Job on me, he can forget about it - I'm not about to bend over and take it like that fanny in the Old Testament did. If God wants a fight, he can blimming well have one.
So come on, God! What are you waiting for? I'm right here. Follow me in to the toilets if you like - I'll take you anytime, anywhere. Whenver you're ready, beardy.
(Note - in between writing this and remembering to select the 'publish' option, I've been sacked from my job. Full update coming soon, but rest assured that I was in the right. Sort of.)
Reader, I've been ill. No, don't panic - nothing serious, just a two-week cold, a sinus infection, a sore throat and the occasional night-terrors. I'm on the mend now, you'll be glad to hear, but there was a brief spell at the beginning of last week where I suspected I was a goner. I fought back though, and I'm not far off doctors giving me the all-clear. The moaning minnies in the terminal wards could learn a lot from me, I tell thee.
So as you'll see, I've taken my illness with characteristic verve. It'll take more than a cold to take the cut out of my jib! However, one thing I am not prepared to take lying down is that God singled me out for illness in the first place. WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?!
I can't pretend to lead the life of a saint, but I'm kind to animals, I don't spit on the homeless and if there were more disabled people involved in my life, I'd be sure to treat them peachy, so who the holy fuck does God think he is striking me down with illness and affliction?! If he thinks he's doing a Job on me, he can forget about it - I'm not about to bend over and take it like that fanny in the Old Testament did. If God wants a fight, he can blimming well have one.
So come on, God! What are you waiting for? I'm right here. Follow me in to the toilets if you like - I'll take you anytime, anywhere. Whenver you're ready, beardy.
(Note - in between writing this and remembering to select the 'publish' option, I've been sacked from my job. Full update coming soon, but rest assured that I was in the right. Sort of.)
posted by Stephen Beckett at 11:44 AM
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