Thats what I have.
An affliction that is only outranked in the unmanly illness stakes by chicken pox and the sniffles.
After 4 days of awkward swallowing and self-pitied wallowing I dragged myself along to the nurse at the local drop-in health centre to be fixed. It was very efficient, after a brief wait I only needed poked and peered into by two different contraptions before diagnosis was made. Then I was sent on my merry way £6.85 lighter and 10 days of Penicillin lighter.
What fun can be had with Tonsillitis?
I can thing of two THINGS:
1) Visit local nightspots and smooch with as many Loose Women as possible. (Not necessary TV’s favourite hystericals, but anything that silences the most narrow-minded gaggle of reactionary knee-jerkers assembled since the last Parkinson’s Sufferers’ Support Group meeting of the Third Reich is fine by me.) The infectious smooching will give me an insight into the minds of predatory, knowingly STD ridden Greek fisherman who sleep with British half-cut, middle-aged, holiday-making recent divorcees. Perhaps helping academics understand what the bloody hell they think they’re doing.
2) I have stolen the Promethean Fire! With my immune system bolstered by science, I am free to ingest diary products more out of date than the usual 1-2 day safety barrier.
I am off to enjoy a four day out of date Ski yoghurt, peach flavour. If you come up with any other ideas at all for how best to enjoy my tonsillitis, please, let me know.