I'VE always been what you would describe as annoyingly healthy'.
It's not something that's annoying to me, I actually quite enjoy being part of some super-immune superrace, far above the rest of you frail, sickly beings.
It's that it seems to be something that annoys everyone else I know.
During the annual flu season, while everyone else is dropping like flies, I generally seem to escape the incapacitating plague with nothing more than a few sniffles.
Not only that, but I've barely ever been in hospital. Despite performing all manner of daft and dangerous stunts throughout my childhood, I've never even broken a bone.
The only time I've ever been to the accident and emergency at Wythenshawe hospital (not a nice experience I can assure you) was due to a rather unfortunate accident involving a small metal replica of Thomas the Tank Engine.
Let's just say, having said child's toy lobbed at the side of your head is not a recipe for success. But a few butterfly stiches and more than a few tears later I was right as rain. At least that's what my mum told me, I've always wondered why I veer to the right while walking.
So, perhaps unsurprisingly considering my smugness in this area, my good health has become a bugbear for some of my more accident prone friends. I must admit, to have me bouncing around like a kid who's just swallowed a whole pack of Smarties while you're laid low with the flu probably isn't a pleasant experience.
Just watch, after I've said all this, I'll end up coming down with a stomach bug or something equally as nasty. Actually, there's nothing as nasty as a stomach bug because I can't imagine not being able to enjoy a good scran - take my food away from me and I'm afraid I'll have to kill you.
I really don't know what the source of my good health is. When I was younger I never stopped playing sport but now I never really start, so that can't be it.
Maybe it's the Superted vitamins I used to throw down my neck every morning when I was a kid but, then again, I can't imagine anything shaped like a rather weedy cartoon superhero would do that much good.
I'd rather believe that I'm part of some bizarre experiment, a bit like Wolverine from the X-Men. Maybe some mad scientist injected me with a kind of super-virus that makes me an invincible demi-god.
Maybe I'm just waiting for some higher calling. Let's face it, there's got to be something more than journalism.
Clark Kent got it all wrong. If I found out I was superhuman, you wouldn't catch me toiling at my desk in Messenger HQ, I'd be out enjoying the perks. I'm sure I could get all manner of free stuff if I was defender of the free world.
But then again, I can't see it.
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