I write you this letter from my sickbed. For thrice days now I have fought a raging battle with the most dreaded of illnessess: Man Flu.
I hear you sigh, dear friend. 60% of that sigh is probably because the term 'Man Flu' is outdated and sexist, 40% of the sigh was out of sheer desperation for the struggle of your wonderful friend Victoria Cook and the remaining 30%* was because someone ate all the green triangle Quality Streets.
*I used a calculator for the above calculations, although my mam keeps insisting it is a TV remote. Whatevs.