Man Flu

    My definition, a derogatory term, invented by a woman, for a virus when caught by a man. Back in October I received my flu injection, but there is no avoiding, or a cure for, man-flu.  If a man catches a virus it will be regarded as man-flu, a much degraded version of the real thing, something which has been dreamt up by a man   to gain sympathy, and not something worthy of serious consideration.
    Now why would a man invent a virus  to gain sympathy, when every husband knows that sympathy ended at the altar. 

   This is how a typical week of man-flu  pans out.
     On Monday your week of hell begins with a sore throat. "Have we any sore throat lozenges?" you ask.
     "We ran out of mint humbugs so I ate them all while  watching TV, you will have to wait until I go shopping on Friday."
     Tuesday the headaches begin. " Have we any Paracetamol dear?" you ask, but even the mentioning the word Paracetamol sets off an angry  reaction.
     "You should try having a baby then you would know what real pain is like."
     Now this is the answer to a  question never contemplated, and so you keep searching for something which doesn't exist until you are chastised for messing up the kitchen cupboards.
     Wednesday you begin to sneeze but your handkerchief is wedged at the bottom of your pocket and trapped under your house keys and some small change.
     "Do you have to sneeze all over everyone," she challenges. "Don't be so inconsiderate and cover your face." 
     Thursday you develop a hacking cough. You dare not ask if there is any cough medicine in the house and so you pay £4.50 for a cough bottle at the local chemist, which barely lasts for two days and has no effect whatsoever.
     You cough all through Thursday night until your chest is sore. You get very little sleep but do you get any sympathy. Well what do you think?
     "Do you have to cough all night?" she asks irritably at 3 o'clock in the morning. "I'm sure you're only doing it to keep me awake, why don't you sleep in the spare room?"
     Friday you should be going out with friends but you are too unwell to go. You hear your darling wife on the telephone cancelling the arrangements.
     "Yes he's got man-flu. He'll do anything to spoil my evening."
     By Saturday you are going through ten handkerchiefs a day but she still hasn't noticed  that you are genuinely unwell.
     "I wish you would stop using so many handkerchiefs." she complains. "Do you really think that I have nothing else to do all day other than washing your dirty handkerchiefs?"
     You could contract leprosy and you would still here her talking on the phone, "He's  got man-leprosy, he's such a baby."
     On Sunday she complains of having a sore throat, and retires to bed with the packet of throat lozenges which she failed to purchased until your sore  throat had all but gone away. She tells her friend on the telephone  that she's got the flu, but she has no idea where she could possibly have caught it. It couldn't possibly have been caught from you because after all you only had man-flu.