What a wonderful stew this had become.
My grandfather (http://www.b3ta.com/questions/oldpeoplespeaktruths/post178460) invented a cure for the common cold. A simple mixture of whisky, iodine and salt is enough to put a person on the path of idiot-faced vigour. Quick as a whistle, he said, and you’ll be back out wrastlin’ greased hogs.

I should mention, one must inhale it through their nose.

A few years ago, I was on my deathbed. My outlook was bleak, my present was full of phlem, serious brain fug and The DeathLurg. Lemsips didn’t work, and whining about my imminent and painful death didn’t elicit enough sympathy and slave labour to make my cold worthwhile.

Remembering my grandfather’s miracle cure, I crawled into my kitchen, a duvet slug leaving a trail of snot and LurgSpores. It was time for me to experiment, to see if granddad was telling porkies all along.

Whisky. Check. Salt – will ground sea salt do (I am thoroughly middle class after all)? Suuuure it will. Check. Now for the iodine. Hm. I haven’t got any of that. Diluted TCP? It can’t be that deadly, it only kills bad, nasty germs. I’ll throw a glug of that in, too. Check.

I hovered over the countertop, straw in nose. A quick sniff in this nostril. Hey, that burns a bit. Time for the other nostril. Eh, this isn’t so bad, though I.

And then my face exploded.

Blood spewed everywhere. I was fairly certain that my witch’s brew was boring its way into my brain via my eyes and spine. I fell to the ground in the foetal position, whoop whoop whooping around in circles on the floor like The Three Stooges. The pain was abiding and agonising, the blood had managed to cover both every surface of me and the kitchen. What a wonderful stew this had become.

My partner came home to find the carnage. I had managed to crawl away in the general direction of a bath and some soap, leaving a mess of blood. I’d have helped him clean it up, but you guessed it, I was still ill.

It was a pointless experiment – something which was going to so clearly end in horror, did.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:20, 4 replies)

Fucking hell!
But, after the bleeding and the horror, had the cold gone?
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:32, closed)

No.
No it bloody well hadn't.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 11:50, closed)

Ah now you see
This is where you went wrong.

1. Listning to a grandad who obviously has a vicious sense of humour. I

2. Tainting good liqour with unnecessary frippary.

3. And this is a golden rule that applies to much of lifes little foibles .... Putting the wrong thing into the wrong hole at the wrong time always ends in tears.


Just recovered from a stinking cold .... actually had a day off work with it! first sick day in god knows how many years! .. but regular doses of straight whiskey througout the week have pulled me through.

I bet your old granddad would have been soiling himself with the laughter had he seen you on the kitchen floor ;)
( RadG Drinking Mojitos in the sun, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:25, closed)

Grandpa
He didn't have a sense of humour, he was just evil.

Apparently my father tried his 'cure' many years before to similar results. He didn't warn me off, as he never thought I would be stupid enough to replicate it.

Ha, I showed him!
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:06, closed)