It was evening, and unfortunately the sickness didn't come until after I was home from school for an hour or so - which was annoying, as you can guess, as there's nothing better than a day off school, regardless of the cause. Be it mild cold or skin-eating parasite, yes there's nothing better than a day off school.

So stuck in bed during the evening, with nothing to do other than wishing just to pass out or die or anything other than having to actually vomit, I clicked on Friends and then huddled up under the covers.

Everything was fine for the first fifteen minutes of Friends. Then came the advert break, and after a few rolled past I was presented with that advert for fish that everyone in the UK should know if they've clicked on the TV in the past few years. You know the one; chefs in a kitchen preparing some meal with shitloads of cod or haddock or whatever while that annoying voice sings, "Thou shall have a fishy on a little dishy." More recently it was some kid's voice, though when this occurred it was the bloke with the slight accent.

At this point, I began to feel worse - much, much, much worse. So bad that I almost converted to Christianity at that moment purely to pray for the advert to be over as soon as possible.

After what seemed like fucking eons, finally the advert was over, but I still felt so ill, so sick and so putrid and vile deep down inside that I couldn't take anymore. With some kind of fantastic timing, I clambered out of bed, headed for the bathroom and then proceeded to cleanly vomit all the contents of my stomach up into the toilet, all thanks to that bastard of an advert.

I did, however, feel much better once cleared of the contents of my stomach, and went downstairs cheerful as anything, in the mood for something to eat. My parents declined, though, and I was left feeling cheated, empty and possibly even somewhat worse than before.

This may have been the cause of many years of overeating and obesity.