Six days ago, I was stricken with the mother of all flu viruses. Six days later, having thrown the wife, the mother, the kitchen sink and most of my immune system at it, the bitch still won’t go away. And so it is that I’m sitting at my desk making sounds often associated with weed smokers i.e. snitching, snorting and spurting. Most unpleasant for myself and all my unfortunate colleagues.

I found out that the GP at the clinic nearby is a professional songwriter, which was rather surprising. I’d never thought of him as anything other than a doctor. He claims to have written songs for Andy Lau and a few other HK singers, whose names I didn’t recognise. To be fair, he was also surprised to hear that I, Mr. Only Sick Once a Year, had recently become a copywriter. However, despite the fact that we both relied on our creative impulses and I was in a life or death battle with a gazillion micro-organisms, I got only a day’s MC. So much for camaraderie! (Of course, I went back the next day and got another day off)