The laugh-a-minute pro-celebrity puking bug known by the streetname "norovirus" continues to squirm its way through the population, effortlesslytransforming ordinarily carefree human beings into spluttering, sulphurous geysers of molten waste. Everywhere the norovirus goes it leaves vast steaming lakes of freshly expelled vomit in its wake. It's like Piers Morgan, but invisible. Which actually makes it slightly better than Piers Morgan.
Everyone hates the norovirus, with the exception of two distinct groups. First: scientists. Professor Ian Goodfellow, who has spent the past decade studying it, has lovingly dubbed the norovirus "the Ferrari of the virus world", not because it makes the contents of your stomach accelerate from 0-60 in 3.4 seconds, but because it's so ruthlessly efficient. Requiring a mere 20 particles to seize command of its victims, the norovirus is 200 times more infectious than Daydream Believer by The Monkees. Consequently many scientists claim to be "impressed" by the thing – a bit like admiring Nazi architecture, if you ask me.
It must be brilliant being a scientist during an outbreak like this because if you get infected yourself, you can at least take the edge off your suffering by admiring the sheer force of your symptoms. The fascinating pitter-patter of stomach contents against the back of your teeth as a fearsome torrent of spew erupts from within like a liquid poltergeist fleeing an exorcism. The impressive way your backside emits high-pressure jets of hot fluid, like the Hulk squeezing silty boiled water from a Fairy Liquid bottle by clenching it abruptly in his fist. The searing aftermath, as your throat rages as though sandpapered and your anus screams like a scalded button. This is nature in all its raw majesty. Film it in HD, get David Attenborough to record the soundtrack, and you've got a Sunday evening treat for millions.
Not that scientists do all the vomiting themselves. Researchers at Derbyshire Health and Safety Laboratory have developed a "vomiting robot" called Larry, to help them understand how far the virus can spread when someone spews it round the room. They push a button, Larry projectile-pukes, and then they analyse the spread of droplets. Must be a hard job to hold down when you've got a hangover. I imagine they have short lunch breaks.
The other group of norolovers are newspaper editors, who get to fill their front pages on the quiet post-Christmas news days with headlines like PALACE "FULL OF VOMIT" and BILLIONS DEFECATE. If, like me, you're an emetophobe – someone with an irrational fear of vomiting – such headlines are on a par with MADMAN ON LOOSE AND STANDING BEHIND YOU. Traditionally, I've been a bit of a wreck during puke season, but this year I seem to have finally conquered my fear of the norovirus. Mainly because I still haven't caught it. And unless I'm one of the small percentage who's naturally immune, I suspect I haven't caught the norovirus thanks to a very simple mental trick I observe religiously at this time each year.
It's easy. Just imagine you're a murderer, that the entire world is your crime scene, and that if you leave a single fingerprint anywhere, you are GUARANTEED to die in jail. If you adhere to this rule, you won't touch anything with your bare hands, and almost certainly won't fall victim. You'll also get so good at opening doors with your elbows you'll feel like a Paralympian.
Hey, it's not that impractical. You get used to thinking like a killer pretty quickly, and the sheer challenge of it can be fun. Using the office loo, for instance, becomes a task from the Crystal Maze. Using a clean bit of toilet paper as a makeshift "glove" you can lift the seat, shut the lock, operate the flusher and then, if you're really good, spin round and unlock the door, then toss said "paper glove" down the swirling pan before the flush cycle finishes. Do it correctly and an entire forensic team couldn't prove you were there. You're a devious villain conducting the perfect crime, like the dashing guest star in the opening scene of a classic Columbo. Just like that. Apart from the bit where you pulled your pants down and did a poo.
Sometimes you may have to shake people's hands, which is problematic. The trick here is to imagine that you're James Bond, and they're a double agent who's just stuck a small explosive device to your skin. If you don't scrub it off with soap and water within 60 seconds millions will perish – starting, perhaps most significantly, with yourself.
The revolting noro-friendly practice of shaking hands is reason enough never to become a politician or a movie star, or some combination of the two, like Barack Obama. Imagine how many faeces-encrusted palms he's had to shake. And then he's always having to pose for a photograph afterwards, eating a hotdog or something. He might as well be licking the damp porcelain rim of a great big bum-Pollocked bog bowl.
If things go disastrously wrong, and you've shaken someone's revolting disease-sodden hand and you don't have immediate access to hot water and a sink, it's imperative to remember your hand is "evil" until you've had a chance to wash it. Don't eat with it, and don't pick your nose or rub your eye with it either or you will die. Keep it in a pocket. Or sit on it, like a moron watching a lapdancer. Just don't use it.
The ladies once again had the day all to themselves last night (Jan. 5, 2013) as the all-female Invicta Fighting Championships held its fourth event at Memorial Hall in Kansas City, Kansas where once again, a title was on the line.
While the planned pay-per-view did not go as planned, with credit card payments not being processed properly by Ustream, forcing Invicta President Shannon Knapp to jump the gun and remove the paywall, granting free access to all comers and offering a refund to anyone who wanted one, the ladies stepped up and continued to put on a good show for all the fans of the budding promotion.
The main event in particular was very interesting as unheralded Aussie Bec Hyatt stepped up on short notice to fight for the promotion's inaugural strawweight title against top 115 pound wrestler Carla Esparza.
Despite fighting on just eight days notice, Hyatt entered the bout as the better conditioned fighter and was actually having her way with Esparza on the feet. Her problem was she couldn't keep the fight there as the three time All-American wrestler was repeatedly able to take her down and work both ground and pound as well as guard passes and the occasional submission attempt.
The story of the fight was Hyatt's resolve, attacking with heavy right hands whenever the bout would get to its feet and scoring with big shots until being taken down over and over and over again.
While Esparza dominated the first three rounds of the fight with her wrestling, her pace slowed entering the championship rounds and Hyatt capitalized, scoring her best strikes of the fight and making fans and viewers wonder whether she'd be able to pull off the tremendous upset.
It wasn't meant to be, however, as Esparza would continue being able to drag the fight to the ground, although her output dropped and she wasn't able to keep the fight on the ground like she had in the beginning of the bout. With 15 seconds left in the fight, Hyatt threw a huge flurry that put "The Cookie Monster" on her back but she couldn't finish the fight before the final bell rang, granting Esparza the unanimous decision victory and the title.
The night's co-main event saw bantamweights Alexis Davis and Shayna Baszler put on a tremendous showing for the fans as both ladies battled for nearly three full rounds until one went unconscious. Baszler had won the initial match-up in 2010 when Davis took the bout on short notice, but this time, both ladies had a full training camp and plenty of time to prepare.
This time around, Davis was the aggressor, outstriking Baszler on the feet with a heavy right hand and occasional leg kicks and going after "The Queen of Spades" on the ground, nearly catching the veteran with a nasty leg lock at the end of the first round which may have altered the rest of the fight.
Baszler favored her other leg slightly from that point on and Davis never stopped going after her, working punches on the feet and more submissions whenever the fight would go to the ground, nearly securing an armbar in the second. Davis continued attacking in the stand-up, eventually overwhelming Baszler in the third and forcing the veteran to lose her balance backing up. After a series of heavy ground and pound shots, the Canadian pounced on a rear naked choke opportunity and squeezed until Baszler went unconscious, winning via technical submission and avenging that prior loss in emphatic fashion.
In another of the most entertaining bouts of the evening, Leslie Smith and Raquel Pennington put forth a spirited display for three full rounds in a battle between Pennington's superior wrestling and one-punch power and Smith's conditioning, pace and overall technical punching prowess.
Pennington started strong, scoring with heavy strikes on the feet and outworking Smith in the clinch and on the ground as her vocal fanbase cheered her on, but Smith persevered, surviving a first round wardrobe malfunction and coming back with superior output of punches in both the second and third rounds as Pennington's pace slowed.
Smith added fuel to the grudge match's flames by repeatedly walking back to the center of the cage whenever Pennington tried to maneuver the bout towards the fence and raising her hands in a taunting manner, trying to egg Pennington on and get her to open up on the feet. Her strategy paid off as she was able to outland Pennington in the final two rounds to take home a unanimous decision.
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