If you go to the doctor to discuss The Funk, without really knowing what exactly it is that you’ve got, but you just feel bad and weird and you say, “Doctor, I feel bad and weird and don’t want to paint my toe-nails a pretty colour”, he/she will tell you to take a seat and ask the following questions:
Do you want to eat your own body weight in pesto pasta, probably spaghetti because it’s what you’ve got in the house and you don’t want to go outside and get something different. Like, let’s say penne, for example?
Do you want to forfeit the gym in favour of getting into your pyjamas at the earliest possible hour after work each day?
Do you feel bad about forfeiting the gym and letting lovely, ‘running all over the place’ Victor down?
For the last week, have you watched the John Lewis Christmas 2013 ad on repeat, even though it isn’t Christmas any more? Or 2013?
Do you wish you had a friend who’s a cute hare?
Do you want to conduct work from the safety and comfort of your bed?
Do you want to miss dancing?
Then, if you have answered yes to at least 50% of the above, the doctor will say this, “You my friend, have got The Funk (although you probably actually don’t want to go dancing because you haven’t got the energy to face the weirdo there) and need to pull yourself together pronto.
And you will answer, “You’re absolutely right doctor. I’m working on it, what do you recommend?”
And he/she will say, “wine”.
And you will say, “anything else?”
And he/she will say, “wine.”
And you will say, “OK, I understand, thank you for your time.” and leave with a prescription for Rioja.