Under attack

It has become apparent to me that the New Planet has a number of unpleasant elements floating about in its atmosphere (and no, I'm not talking about large-mammaried celebrities). Although I have been on this planet for a number of years now, I continue to be attacked and struck down by these dastardly bugs. Surely a being should build up a resistance after a time? They lurk out there, waiting until I am tired and vulnerable, and then they swoop in and attack and leave me feeling as if I have been run over by a herd of woolly mammoths. And since my stomach is now churning after another assault, I shall retire to my chamber to contemplate, scheme and plot about the best way to take over the world.