Happy Birthday mate.
Only chronologically, obviously. In Blaney's case, that'll be a seam of yellow ground clay. How twee.
One of the things with borked ribs is the need for deep breathing to keep things in place. Sitting around gasping is all very well, but it gets tedious very fast. My alternative technique involves singing, which forces me to make full use of my lungs. I spend my days wandering around the house, warbling like a dying crow. Oh, the horror.
