Easily mistaken by many women as the common cold, man flu is something much worse. It is a virus engineered by scientists of the most sinister kind to attack the immune systems of men rendering them as fit as a corpse.
It’s like almost dying for a few days.
And I can already hear the sarcastic sighs of doubting dames who think this a mere momma’s boy symptom to be entertained with the lowest regard and care – a fleeting baby whine hushed by a flavourless dummy, if you may.
But you do not understand. We don’t expect you to understand. You are but women, immune to the savagery of this near-deadly disease.
It reduces a man into a sniffling, feet dragging shadow of his former self who meanders through the confines of his apartment, his blanket draped over his sagging shoulders and with a look upon his countenance similar to Droopy but Droopy on a bad day with man flu.
Do not dismiss our Neanderthal groans for chilli soup, or a tissue or for the remote that is ten thousand millimetres away. At this point, we need you more than ever as we suffer this solo bubonic plague.
Writer: Loyiso Madinga