If you're an ME bird who's just read something in the paper about how your yuppie flu is the greatest invention since sliced bread and that it is all your own fault for being alive, then it's really not difficult to find some really great info on the internet about this nice present they gave you on the way to school, work or in the bus.
The disease you have now is, in essence, an electric wheelchair without power, wheels and full of spikes in your SEAT and that is why many of us are enjoying these delightful pains.
We could obviously have chosen another and NICE’er disease but no, we were so fond of attention and the flu that this yuppie thing sounded to yummie to give a miss.
Some of us have actually tried a great many things to GET rid of this by going to that Chinese man for a take away, to the homeopath for some alcohol, or was it drops of molecules with a memory dropped in 50 odd percent of alcohol.
Many of us have even tried that delightful invention of the MAGIC WAND BRIGADE called CeeBeebies but even the Teletubbies couldn’t help us.
Some of us were so worried about this non existent illness that we even contemplated to see a psychiatrist to see if his magic wand, no you silly, not that one, would actually be magic at all and his special tea making CeeBeeTea would actually not only taste NICE but would also GET us our lives back.
Somewhere in London they have a big fat brewery where they turn frightful leaves into a special concoction that is on the black list of the CIA, the KGB and even the Olympic Committee and some say that you would be better of living on the North Pole in an Igloo than having to go through one session of drinking this ELEVEN million pound costing tea that is so useless unless you are a grumpy old bear who likes telling nonsense to the world and collecting money for fooling everybody until we wake up.
But he reckons that won’t happen in his lifetime.
Yes, I know you live in the UK where the roads are covered in psychiatric lies and malingering sort of reporters who have also turned their brains off as that is so much easier than thinking, hey wait a minute, these people were healthy, sporty and had a great life so why on earth would they make things up.
But no, if you are a modern day reporter you don’t think or ask critical questions, too much work and not enough time to go out for a beer or whatever else they do in reporter land apart from copying a professor who was appointed because no one else was available who could write fairytales in the name of medicine and psychiatry.
And trust me, it is amazing how many of these so called doctors have gone through med school and have become a non thinking money collecting consultant or GP.
Recently I read on ME Agenda that one of our beloved friends tends to thrive on covering up cover ups.
If you are interested you can find this cover up illness in the psychiatric handbook on page 3, or is that a special page in a newspaper, as it is part of the psychosomatic illnesses that only affect psychiatrists who have an internet allergy in combination with a brain that has gone on holiday to the south of wherever.
But eventually he will get an illness himself as that is the faith of all of us and how amazing it would be if he gets a doctor who doesn’t believe him as psychiatrists don’t fall ill.
No really that is the greatest thing of (mental) health land, as I have seen myself, as a doc you don’t fall ill, ever.
Now I must thank the good old Beeb as they have started to broadcast Top Gear, well the highlights in James May his hair I should say, and I have just seen that the slowest driver of the entire Universe got behind the wheel of a Bugatti Virus and went to East Germany to see what the iron curtain looked like.
And then he put the car into drive, used another key to turn the second engine on and ignite the ten radiators as his Mayness apparently collects so much heat in his hair that a normal car with only one radiator can’t cope.
Now before I start to get hate mail from the James May fan club, I must say that I really like the brother of the Queen Guitar man who has a similar sort of hair style.
Now rumour has it that James is so slow as he tends to play the guitar behind the wheel in an effort to beat his brother on his Bohemian Getsody solo but so far he has failed and so he has decided to let his hair grow until he either succeeds or that Hammond fellow doesn’t crash anymore.
Now he is a special sort of guy as well, he tried to drive an F1 car, you know the one from eyebrow man, yes that Alessi guy who became world champion twice in a rowing boat, and then got scared by a rookie who thinks that a Chevrolet with two horse power is a great car, and he needed eight starting efforts to drive the enormous distance I can walk in a day.
Yes, forty yards or so.
Amazingly he didn’t burn the clutch but some say he did burn his ego. But finally he did get going and he was actually driving along which is amazing if you think about it as he can’t look over the steering wheel.
Not even in an F1 car and they are build for blokes who are not taller than your average garden gnome as they are small, light and easy to store away in an F1 car.
Just ask Mr Adrian Newey who always makes his cars so small that the driver doesn’t fit. If you don’t believe me, just ask NIGELLA Mansell whose bum was so big that he couldn’t get into the McLaren a few years ago.
You might also say that Adrian forgot that the driver is the second most important part, after the car obviously.
And yes I know that Adrian Newey is so good, that they paid him Ten million bob for just his signature at the can factory that has now got four wheels on a can, a steering wheel and a big fat engine and goes so fast that the chin man had trouble getting his behind into that can.
The amazing thing is that DC is so lean that he can hide behind a pencil and still he is too fat. Well, according to one commentator that is, who had just finished his CBT sessions and so and had never seen DC in real life.
I mean, since that German chin man has disappeared down the OAP track, DC is the slimmest fittest and oldest bloke on the track yet if you look at his beard, or whatever you call it that grows on his chin these days, you would think that puberty has just started.
And it will be a sad day when he retires as he is a modern day racer with the great values of the old days and so he will never be champion as in the eye brow champion but he will be missed as he is one of the nice and honest blokes in F1 and he has stayed that way over his illustrious career and he is in that respect a nice example for the magic wanderers from the CBT Church how you could earn a lot of money and remain an honest and decent bloke at the same time.
Now to come back to that May bloke, I actually like him okay; he is sophisticated and reminds me of the Seventies and so.
So I presume that he will let his hair grow until I get better, now somehow that doesn’t seem like a good idea as even though I will get better, that is written in the stars I saw yesterday when looking in my CeeBeeTea cup, it might take a while and then his hair might get in the way when he is sitting next to the Clarkman when he is driving speedily away from magic wanderers when they want to enlighten his life with lies and make him give up his Lambo and change over to an electric car or even worse for him, a diesel.
And that would be bad news for car minded Britain.
Replacing his beloved petrol that keeps him alive is a bit like replacing my running shoes and other sports equipment for exercise phobia. It won't really work.
I've just been reading a few remarks about the monster of CBT-ness and apparently they are now thinking of turning him into a tourist attraction.
But I don’t know if we as the ME people could risk losing such a fantastic comedian who actually believes all his fairytales.
The day when he gets run over by a snail would be a day of misery for mankind. I must also say after reading some of his stuff, I learned something intriguing.
Contrary to popular myth, ME was not born while he was fantasising about greatness and an Oscar for Medicine or so.
It was born from viruses that attack fit and healthy people and then hijack their nuclear power stations and zap away all their energy and blow up their fuel cells and HQ’s so they become powerless, have a nerve center out of work and more niceness and so.
And here's something even more intriguing.
To get around the idea that we might actually be ill, he had to be so inventive that he had to use ordinary old fashioned hysteria books to come up with so much nonsense that people believe him just to stop him from talking and killing their brain cells with utter nonsense.
This, they say now, is the jolly trick of professor C.B.T. and that is why many people also, or I should say, prefer to call him Albus Potter who hasn’t come out of the closet yet.
We all know that he, or one of his replacements, at some stage will do so but by then he has destroyed more lives than many bloodthirsty dictators whose names I can’t spell or write down otherwise he will feel offended and so.
And then he starts to cry and I must say I hate crying psychiatrists.
That is even worse than malingering.