golden staph

I woke up this morning with the tingle in my eye that infallibly predicts the imminent arrival of a stye, and the rather fetching moustache that I am sporting has been grown since last Saturday as I can't shave around an infection at the bottom of my nostrils. On the positive side last week's cold sore has cleared up.

Prodnose: What are you doing Friday night, handsome?
Myself: Sod off. These are my three classic physical symptoms of stress.
Prodnose: I pustulate that you need a break.
Myself: Ho ho, very satirical.