Throat is sore
Glands are up
Banging head
Down on my luck

Confined to my bed
But too hot to sleep
Missing the air con
But for work I’m too weak

Swimming in
My own sweat
Stuck to the sheets
Which are wringing wet

Like a water bed
Or rather a paddling pool
My mattress has become la mer
But it’s stifling as oppose to cool

Life in the attic
Is an arduous affair
Sub Siberian in winter
Sweltering in summer sans any air

Oh, bring me an oscillating fan!
To waft me as I ail
In silver or white but definitely not black
Coordination with decor must prevail

I scour Argos
and Amazon online
But the fans are so plentiful
I cannot decide

Which one to order
And can they deliver?
Oh f**k, they’ve sold out
That’ll teach me to dither!

I’ll take a cold shower
If I can muster up the strength
To stand up for long enough
To get myself drenched

Nay, I’m too frail
At least at the minute
Thus my sweat sodden bed
Retains me in it

If I could just sleep awhile
Replenish my energy
Of this BO ridden pit
Could I at last be free

But this lurgey with which I’m afflicted
Coupled with the heat
Is keeping me awake
Sedate me, oh somebody, please!

I shouldn’t complain
It’s nice to have sun
But being broiled alive
Isn’t very much fun

Thus with the lobster
I utterly empathise
So torcherous and barbaric
A way to meet one’s demise

Fortunately I’m not a crustacean
Forcibly yanked by a net from the sea
I’m merely a girl with a viral complaint
Not viewed as a delicacy

Thus I should quit whining
And focus on being ill
For my head in the freezer could I stick
And with the frozen peas chill.