OK so I’m on me own. And I am rising to the challenge. I have spent the weekend psyching myself up, listening to The Eye of the Tiger and shadow boxing in my dressing gown. OK I haven’t. I’ve spent the weekend dying of tonsillitis and generally wracked with fear.
AIDS of the tonsils notwithstanding (one of my tonsils is bisexual) if I’m going to survive this race, I am going to have to start trying a lot harder. So from here on, no alcohol shall pass my lips until the 2nd December. That’s right, I’m only taking my booze rectally from now on. So in between sherry enemas, I shall be running immense distances and not going out. I shall also be drinking herbal tea, burning essential oils and washing my hair in waterfalls. I’m basically going to be no fun at all.
I’m also starting to freak out on a whole different level. Most of you probably know I am mortally afraid of spiders. Now Sarah has spun me some yarn about the all the spiders having been driven out of Borneo, like the snakes from Ireland (now that would be worth a sainthood). But I have dismissed this as malicious fancy, and did a google search for the words “Borneo”, “spider” and “massive”. It turns out that there are indeed TARANTULAS in Borneo and that they are largely arboreal. When Sarah announces out accommodation tomorrow, you will see why I am going to be sleeping with a cricket bat, a can of raid and a crucifix.
Gibber!
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