(In bed, ill with a high temperature)
Brain: Ooh isn’t it cold.
Brain: It is.
Me: It’s not cold, I’ve got a temperature.
Brain: It’s freezing.
Me: (touching head to confirm) No, I’m boiling.
Brain: What’s that noise?
Me: (listening carefully) I can’t hear anything?
Brain: Can’t you hear that? The sound of your bones knocking together as they shiver?
Me: Pack it in.
Brain: Why don’t you put some socks on, your feet are cold aren’t they?
Me: (sighs) Yes, my feet feel cold now that you mention it. (gets out of bed and puts socks on)
Brain: (sings Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice Ice Baby’)
Me: (back in bed) What are you doing now? I need to sleep.
Brain: I’m singing cold songs. Because it’s cold.
Me: Please stop.
Brain: Why don’t you put a nighty on. It’s cold and you’re nude, that’s just silly.
Me: I’m not nude, I have socks on. (gets out of bed and puts nighty on, gets back into bed)
(One minute and thirty-nine seconds tick by)
Brain: (sings Ultravox’s Vienna)
Me: That’s not a cold song, why are you singing that?
Brain: Midge Ure looked chilly in the video, so it’s a cold song.
Me: Stop talking, and singing, I need to sleep.
Brain: It’s too cold to sleep. But if you put another layer on you’ll feel all snugly and fall asleep.
Me: Ok, I give in.
Brain: Good, if you get any colder you’ll need the toilet.
Me: Great. I suppose you want to be emptied?
Bladder: Yes. Isn’t it cold.
Me: Don’t you start. (Empties bladder, layers up, back into bed) Can I sleep now?
Brain: Of course. Snuggle down. Right under the duvet for maximum warmth.
(waking six hours later in a pool of sweat)
Me: Oh sweet horse chestnuts! I’m roasting alive! (fumbles feebly to remove socks while fighting heat fatigue)
Brain: Ha! Got you!