Norovirus

Well, everybody in Stoke's got Norovirus now, including me, so that's bloody typical. There's vomiting left, right and centre. I thought it was that bag of liquorice I'd eaten, but it's definitely Norovirus, because everyone else has got it. I can't even get out to Dagfields, but then I can barely even get dressed, so they'll just have to do without me. And it's a pain, because I need to sell on these three clocks that I got at auction, because they just keep bonging off every hour, day and night. I tell you, I'll need a holiday after this. I would go skiing, only I can't ski anymore, so I'd just have to potter about on the nursery slopes. Plus, you just feel too conspicuous in a ski resort if you're short and fat. And then if you go with these budget airlines, they don't have any decent food and you end up right next to the toilets if you're not careful with queuing men's groins on eye level with you non-stop for two hours. I mean, I don't want to be confronted with an inundation of groins while I'm flying, do you?