Pathetically sickly

I'd only just packed away my Christmas Rudolph hat when I was struck down sickly and rapidly developed my own rosey snout... and hacking cough and pathetic weakness.  Work achieved so far in 2015... nowt, nil, nada, nothing at all. It's a poor effort.

Comfort Rats Sans Frontières (because "Rats Without Borders" is a naff name...) leapt into action, with a steady supply of strepsils, lemsips and coffee - all hot drinks were laced with vodka and rum so while I will recover I'm probably now an alcoholic.