News – LOL WUT?

Dearest reader – I hope that you are quite well, that your family’s business shares are up and that your studies at Oxford are progressing. I would like to beg your forgiveness for not updating since December last – it has indeed been some time since there was any significant activity on the web log we all cherish, known as “The Mighty Ginge”.

But unfortunately there hasn’t been enough time for me to have turned into some pompous English tosspot who works at his Daddy’s Landrover factory during the week, plays polo on Saturdays and snorts lines of coke off alterboy’s asses after Communion – or for me to genuinely give a shit if I haven’t updated.

It’s not that I haven’t wanted to though – military training establishments are such a fucking barrel of laughs that I’m constantly thinking up ideas for blog posts. And the issue isn’t getting web access anymore, since I’ve managed to wedge myself like a tick into the house of a defenseless English girl on the weekends, shamelessly destroying her bandwidth and leaving it in a bloody, weeping mess when I’m done. No, dear reader the reason for the lack of updates is because I’ve been diagnosed with poor-man’s AIDs.

Are you serious? AIDs? That is SOOOOOO gay

I’d been getting progressively weaker and less motivated with training over the last 2 months, going from easily one of the top recruits to absolute dog-shit and no one could work out why. When it eventually got so bad I could barely walk up a set of stairs, the marines called me gay, threw me in hospital, and did enough blood tests to re-enact the corridor scene from The Shining. The result? While I’m now certain I don’t have Malaria (high 5!), Hepatitis (another high 5!) or HIV (double high 5!), it appears some sneaky little bastard tick latched onto me out on Dartmoor just after New Year, infected me with weakness, then fucked off again without even staying for breakfast.

The plus side to it all though is that it’s finally been diagnosed, found it wasn’t AIDs, got some awesome medication that has me trying to hump anything with or without a pulse, and scored 10 days of paid sick leave out of it too. Ofcourse, I’ll be going back to the rehabilitation unit – home to all the lazy broken mongs who are too lazy to quit, much less finish training. Having already seen how things work in there, rehab will be an excellent time for the blog, not so much for my mental health.

But that’s a story for another day. In the meantime, it’s good to be back… and alive