Brian Rogers Rogers Rabbits www.sunlive.co.nz

As expected, we've had an outpouring of complaints from genuine sickness beneficiaries after last week's RR column, pointing out the absurdity of the boxing match between the Tongan ‘sick' person and the All Black.

Rightly so, those genuinely unable to work due to illness or disability are hopping mad (especially the ones with only one leg) that they tend to get tarred with the same brush as bludgers who rip off the system.

Here at RR we have the utmost respect for those suffering real illnesses and disabilities. That's why reasonable thinking, honest New Zealanders need to voice their disapproval of the shams such as this boxer on compo.

It can only do harm to genuine beneficiaries who find it hard enough get through each day, retaining respect in the community, without having their reputations tarnished by scammers.

As mentioned last week, I suffered tennis elbow for a time last year, but managed to keep working. How can a gospel singer reasonably be awarded a benefit for tennis elbow, yet still be fit enough to box?

Besides, tennis elbow didn't stop me singing gospel. There were times, through the dark days of my disability, that I managed to belt out some lovely old gospel numbers.

Including: ‘My Lord, That Hurts'

Another common one: ‘Jesus Christ, I'm in Agony'

Plus the time honoured hymn: ‘Oh God, That's so Painful'

Several people listening to my rendition of that last number agreed. Although I think they were commenting on the quality of the singing.

Cheerfulness ratings
As we approach the shortest day, which coincidentally this year falls just before the longest night, it's a good opportunity for all you RR followers to carry out a mid-winter audit on your cheerfulness ratings.

Those found to be in deficit will be beaten until cheerful.
It's well known amongst the ‘People who Know Things' that levels of happiness can bottom out in the depths of winter. Called SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a type of depression that occurs as the days grow shorter.

No-one knows why the odd word ‘affective' was needed in the name of the malady; except that it conveniently spells ‘sad' because really it could be called Seasonal Depression. But that wouldn't be as catchy, would it? And without a snazzy acronym we'd just get more depressed.
Basically it is caused by decreasing amounts of sunlight and colder temperatures, rugby losses and the demise of Charlie Sheen in ‘Two and a Half Men.'

Here in the wonderful Bay of Plenty, we could hardly say winter has even started, so it's surprising that anyone is feeling any ill ‘affectives' at all.

The temperatures have been so mild, with hardly a frost and despite record rainfall, really it hasn't been that bad, eh?

However, some of you are certainly showing signs of some seasonal problems. Apparently the condition is more common in young adult women, which is why in my younger years, I made it my life's ambition to help raise the spirits of young adult women everywhere. Mostly this was achieved; as at last, in the depths of winter, they found something to laugh about. Well at least God Loves a Trier (probably another gospel number).

Now of course happily married and middle aged, it's up to the new generation of caring young males to cheer up the fairer sex; a quick text should do it. At least that way, you're out of slapping distance.

Symptoms of SAD include tiredness, fatigue, depression, crying spells, irritability, trouble concentrating, body aches, loss of sex drive, poor sleep, decreased activity level, and overeating, especially of carbohydrates, with associated weight gain.

Other signs that someone may be suffering SAD that RR researchers have noted: road rage, lack of punctuation (Apostrophe Deficit Syndrome); a general loss of hope, such as showing a tendency to put up with Petra Bagust in the mornings; finding themselves gradually accepting Tauranga City rate rises will be in double figures...

Now get that rust bucket Toyota Apostrophe out of the road; I need to get home to sleep before I cry on my portly waistline.

In other headlines this week, ACC says a New Zealand farmer is injured on the job every 28 minutes. This is shocking. If I was that guy, I'd be a lot more careful, or find another job.

Parting thought:
If you're not allowed to take a same sex date to the school ball, who is going to dance the Gay Gordons?