On Irony

On Irony

There is something deeply ironic - karmic, even - that the day after I post a story on this site asking "What's the illest you've ever been?" I should then spend the entire weekend with the flu, drowning in my own mucus.

OK, it's not that ironic. Getting ill just after writing about illness is nowhere near as ironic as this: Rubbish Cornish pirates killed by better, heavily-armed African pirates. I bet their last words (apart from "Aaargh!") were "I don't suppose you see the deep irony of our perillous situation", which, of course, they said just before "Aaargh!".

Anyway, unlike the rest of the male population, I refuse to wallow in my illness and demand your sympathy. Oh no. I am a New Man, and, as such, I shall rise above it and concentrate only on the means of my recovery. A recovery based on the teachings of the Eastern mystic Dr Wang Ka, demanding a steady supply of naked photographs.

So, if you care for me, your esteemed author, plz to send recent undraped photograph. Male readers: plz to not send undraped photographs. Cash will do in lieu.

The irony being, of course, that I am in no fit state to appreciate any of the thousands of images flooding my inbox. Damn you Wang Ka!