The poor husband has repulsed me with his disturbing and anti-social illness so I'm busy playing nurse...boiling the 7up, wearing the short uniform and what not. He is existing soley on a diet of weak-tasting liquids, the occasional glass sweet and lots of neuro-care. NEURO-CARE. That sounds like some class of brain surgery. Or perhaps the post-op treatment of the the wounded brain.

Ok. Allow me to remove from my bonnet a fat, infertile bee for you. I take issue with things not being called what it is they are. Allow me to take some COMMON EXAMPLES (common like my cousins in Cabra) from everyday life to examine my gripe.

• 1. GLASS SWEETS
  Now, if these little bastards existed, our mouths would be in a right old state. OH MY, THIS LITTLE PIECE OF ATTRACTIVE CONFECTIONARY MIGHT BE RATHER TASTY ALLOW ME TO SAMPLE IT AAAARGH OH NOE MY TONGUE IS CUT UP I CAN'T SPEAK NO ONE SHALL EVER LOVE ME NOW. See? The risks are innumerable.

• 2. THINGS LABELED "INFLAMMABLE"
  This, too, is a great one. Inlfammable eh? I'LL SEE ABOUT THAT says Mister Duh. Fetch me some petrol and a novelty lighter - sounds like a challenge to me!

  Sharply followed by pricey skin grafts for all.

• 3. THE BIG MAC
  Picture the scene. neuro is having a little wander up Grafton Street in search of a new frame for that shrine, when all of a sudden it begins to lash. RAINING HAMSTERS AND GUINEA PIGS. Now desperately in need of shelter (and a hug), neuro ducks into the local McDonalds, briefly assaults the security guard and sees a "BIG MAC" on sale for a low low price. Upon request of said savioural item, neuro is presented with a burger. A DURTY BIG BORGER. The shock is atrocious.

• 4. BOBBY PINS
  Well, you've no idea what they might be at all, and then you google for pictures find out that they're just hair clips. Bloody hell. What's the point.

My life is one trial after another.