On The Mend

I must be on the mend after my, I am not going to say near fatal as I believe that is what would have happened if I had been stupid enough to be so perturbed by the disturbing symptoms to have phoned an ambulance. The symptoms were respiratory related, just a feeling of there not being enough oxygen in the blood, compelling you to take a deep breath every few minutes despite being at rest. Although the cake may be a red herring (I have no test equipment except the sea gulls and they ate the cake (and are still alive). I am however 99% sure of the cause but would rather not say for obvious reasons except to say that it is something bought from Tesco and previously Morrisons and not this virus, simply because it starts the day after going to shop and only lasts until (won’t say) is consumed and explains why I have had four increasingly powerful versions. It is not the virus or my antibodies would deal with it. It is a toxin straight out of Porten Down on the authority of Tony Blair, Prince Charles and of course his prime minister stooge Boris Johnson. You are ALL criminally insane and after I defeat you, Justice MUST be seen to be done. The reason I know I am getting better is because this morning I was using a fucking annoying noisy device often referred to as a hoover!

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