Man constipation more painful than childbirth?

So this week I have featured bottom flossers, budgie smugglers (speedos) and Mancunian Merlot and the readership has increased significantly. I know I don’t make much attempt to be high brow, but I can now see a clear journalistic path before based on innuendo and smut. What has changed I hear you say? actually very little.

I have not been at my best today, indeed I had to take to my bed for much of the day. This should not be taken as any admission of over imbibing yesterday, indeed I will site the example of an old friend on a cricket tour to Jersey whose name I cannot mention as he something big at the Foreign Office, who one lunchtime drank 24 Grolsch lagers and ate a prawn sandwich. He was  adamant that it was a dodgy prawn that made him ill. I am certain I have a bug but that nice lady decorator is sceptical and as usual, totally lacking in the warmth and support a man who is ill deserves. She pretended not to hear the bell designed to summon her, so I had to phone her to order tea.

I may have covered this subject before, but it is a fact that when a man is ill, it is far worse than anything a woman encounters. Women may argue that childbirth is a little painful, and indeed so might it be but they have never had man constipation. Man flu is of course the most stark example of a condition that women claim is the same as normal flu, clear poppycock. Anyway as I write this I believe I am slowly recovering and managed to take this picture from my sick-bed showing the paths of various jets which we never hear.

The evening sky over Provence, no volcanic dust here, yet

Tomorrow I will have to dig out my winter gear as I have to go to London on Wednesday. It is no use my friends in England telling me the weather is lovely, I have Sky Sports and I saw the Test Match washed out and Wimbledon under cover, with scudding rain at both venues. Three jumpers, a woolly hat and my galoshes should do it, thank god I am staying the comparatively balmy south, imagine if I had to go as far north as Chester or Manchester, it does not bear contemplation.

I am reminded of a couple of events that took place at the epic weekend barbecue. I recall Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs whilst drooling over Bluebell, our 1969 VW camper van, claiming he was going to buy 3 and rent them out. Clearly he was so excited about this idea that he celebrated in such style that his long-suffering wife had literally to bundle him, dribbling, into the car at about 10pm.  Another gratifying event was Banjo the cataclysmic cocker spaniel owned by that nice lady decorator seems still to be suffering from his theft of a the bait of a sausage heavily laden with mustard. Twice during the night he was whining to go out and headed to the pool for a very long drink of water. Of course, as he is not my dog and is not welcomed by me into the household, it was the job of that nice lady decorator to get up and let him out. I am pleased to say that she is very fed up with him at the moment, which is very pleasing. Perhaps the next time I offer to have him taken away for putting down she may be a little less negative?

As I am ill, I will be unable to get the usual plug in for Currencies Direct, so that will have to wait until tomorrow when I hope I shall be recovered.

Chris France