I am still coughing for England. In fact if I last another three days I'll make the Olympic qualifying time and be able to breathe the Beijing smog to compete in the five day cough-athon; my medal chances are good methinks. This morning I coughed so hard and so loud and so long that my whole body was sucked out of my mouth and i found myself with the insides out and the outsides in...rather like that delightful early scene in The Fly with the ape.

But I jest, when in fact it's getting me down. I can't focus on work, I can't train properly (for the Marathon...ten days and counting), I've not been blogging and I've not been writing to or for those that deserve better than this flaccid Floydian philanderer.  I don't even fancy a fantasy fuck (and that usually distracts me!).  Oh woah is me.

Something is needed to stop the coughing and snap me back, before I snap in two.