We are in mid October and it is the season of various viruses being shared in public places, especially in offices with air condition systems. If one employee has a cough or cold, then everybody on that floor will have it within 2 weeks. That’s just one reason I dislike air condition systems. It’s not that AC system aren’t handy. It’s just this whole social aspect of sharing diseases that is simply ridiculous. And more, shouldn’t we be more careful in these swine flu days?
So, at the beginning of last week I developed a bit of a tickle in the throat, which slowly developed into a cough. Instantly, my female colleagues suspected the Man Flu, which is level 11 on WHO’s pandemic scale – way above the more known deadly killers like Swine Flu and the Black Death – except this one doesn’t kill, but merely paralyses the male chromosomes for a short period of time. Either that or it is simply a urban legend developed by the female workforce. Us men wouldn’t fall victim to any viruses or other strange phenomenon, which will make us stay at home for a couple of days looking for affection and attention from our partner, would we?
I was slowly developing a dangerous cough which made me sound like seals found in Howth harbour. I realized how bad I sounded, when people started to throw dead fish at me and when I lost my voice. It was at times like being back in puberty, when the voice has these funny pitches and drops, to the amusement of bystanders and family.
My wife occasionally feeds our kids Manuka honey, which has healing powers, to help them fight an infection. But not me, I’m a man. A man doesn’t need these remedies or other prescriptions. My powerful body will fight off the bad cells naturally. The real reason for my dislike of honey is because when I was a kid I developed a phobia for honey. The smell, texture and taste makes me gag. The cause is actually very traumatic for me, as it reminds me of the pain the nuns in my kindergarten put me through, every day for three years. They fed us kids with a tablespoon of honey EVERY morning. That would break any man. Even a tough Viking like me.
On Thursday evening my voice decided to go on holidays, leaving me speechless for the first time in my life – literally. Whenever I attempted to say something to my wife, or reply, the only thing that left my lips was a weird ghostly voice – resembling a mafioso character in Mickey Blue Eyes. You can call me Don Brix Calzone.
Sure, a good night’s sleep would cure anything, so I headed to my favourite destination – Narnia Middle Earth.
The next morning hadn’t changed much, except me hairdo that made me look like the Lucan Twins from X Factor (except I am twice their age and I can sing compared to them!), and my voice still sounded shite. I had to go to work, as I had a business presentation. Luckily I didn’t have to talk much. I was the co-pilot controlling the slides instead.
Like every morning, I had to record my greeting on the voice-mail system. I’m 100% certain that any caller would have mistaken my greeting to be either a devilish backward recitation or some pervert stalker – but it had to be done. People just didn’t take me serious, with a voice like a teenage mutant mafioso twat.
Thank God It Was Friday, and I had to leave at lunch time to pick up my daughter from school. I survived Man Flu!