Booze and illness.

Bluh. I feel ill. Ill enough not to go into work yesterday. Cold/fever/sore throat kind of thing. Spent the day instead hunkered under blankets, drinking lemsip and making lentil soup. I thought the latter would make me feel better, which it would have done, had I not burnt my bloody throat while tasting it. As night came on, I decided a glass of wine would be the done thing. Knocked the sodding glass over. Arse.
On BBC Breakfast this morning, I blearily watched a news report about under age drinking, and 'David Blunkett's summer crackdown on binge drinking and violence'. From this sentence, I inferred two possibilities. Either A) David Blunkett is a one man crackdown team, dashing from bar to bar and terrorising all the munchkins with their cider and blacks, or b) Blunkett has a terrible binge drinking and violence problem of his own, and has sworn to forego both over the summer. The image of Blunkers off his head on alcopops, rampaging through the corridors of Whitehall, randomly and viciously passing legislation at terrified onlookers, crawled through my mind.
Well, it was early in the morning.
And I still feel ill.