There's only one thing worse than the humbug

Still in the grip of the humbug. I can't remember the last time I felt quite so ill, for so long. Ear ache like being bayoneted in the side of the head, coughing all night, fever, a throat so sore it wakes you up if you swallow, all resulting in an exhausted kind of insomnia. I'm being the least festive guest imaginable for Mum and Mas.

Still, it could be worse.

Actually, it was worse yesterday, after the appalling assassination of Benazir Bhutto. The facebook group I had created called (and this does not seem at all big and clever now) I secretly fancy Benazir Bhutto caused me some anxiety, especially as a rabid Canadian reporter tried to get me to sell my story.

There were concerned email too from some of the group's members so the only thing to do was delete the group. This, thanks to the humbug's ability to scramble thought, I completely bungled - deleting myself as administrator before I'd deleted all group's membership. Cue visions of justly inflamed supporters hunting down me and each of the group's members.

I had to resort to emailing facebook, who fortunately emailed me back within a day, and today I have been able to resolve the matter. For some reason this whole business gave me the horrors.

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