A torrid day giving out orders

My friends, it has been a good day. I have lain on my settee counting how many cups of sweet tea I can drink in an hour, whilst watching a match of varying interest on the TV. I have been doing this is preparation for tonight's bonanza of Cheryl Cole on her own with Will I. Am and then after that X Factor which starts soon.
I have an issue with Americans coming over here and telling us that we have got their name wrong. The former chief of Defence Col. Powell had obviously heard we call nerds Colin, so he became Coelin Powell, just to avoid being called a nerd name. The same goes with this US rapper Will.I. Am. His real name is William and he is a Black Eyed Pea, but oh no he won't have that, hence we now are likely to have the Reverend. Will.I. Am and other's such named like Prince William being renamed in the future. You might see them objecting at first but it won't last long.

My chest has been sort of ok. I haven't done too much, despite the doctor at the hospital on Monday telling me I should do deep breathing and twisting and generally things in keeping with sweeping the leaves up off my driveway. I think she is someone I will ignore from now on although she wasn't American, probably Hungarian from the surname I recall. Lots of Magyar s riding across the steppes and conquering illness. Hasn't sorted out mine yet though.
Big Chris came round and took my tree down from the roof, and Mel and the girls have spent the rest of the afternoon putting it together. It looks great but could do with a lighter fairy on the top branch, not that I'm picky. I have just rolled over and sat at the PC, to write this. It's hard when you don't do much. So shall I just stop? That would be like being called William and giving in without a struggle so I shan't.
All wood has now left the driveway, and it means the garden looks smart again. birds are still tapping at the glass, I haven't been out to feed them yet, need another week before I will be up to that. Although it is hard to guess these things. It might be a year before this goes away, especially as the Dr I.saw at the Marsden yesterday ( Dr Isore-did you get it? probably not- you need to be taking Morphine to understand me these days) said it was a serious pneumonia that I was suffering from, and there was a good chance I could drag this out for months from a sympathy level. Horah! I might be number one in the sympathy charts again before too long. Did I tell you I nearly didn't make it back to the car yesterday? No, it was brill. A brand new Phlebotomy practioner had a go at getting blood out of me 3 times and failed because I have been hiding my veins again. So I wobbled along to surgery, lay down there on a table that folds flat and then had a chat before wobbling out to the car. Mel likes to ask me a lot of detailed questions when I feel faint and sick, and so I made a break for it up the hill while she paid in the car park. I didn't make it, and she was back with me before I reached the car, and asking lots of questions. I drove out the car park with my head out the window and a mouthful of salty saliva, which I recognise as about to throw up but nothing to do with being drunk. An unusual experience for me. But I managed to get out of the hospital without talking or opening my douche and am now called Basil.Will.You.Answer.Me.