As the days march ever closer towards the terrifying grips of winter, the sniffles begin. Yesterday I awoke with unsymmetrical glands in my throat, one selfishly having increased its surface area at the expense of my personal comfort in eating, breathing and talking. Showing no sign of imminent reduction I took matters into my own hands by offering my mischievous gland to the pharmaceutical companies. Blessed paracetamol, just like my r4 3ds card, it is a scourge of my pains.

Doped up and blissfully unaware of the adolescent gerbil at the summit of my oesophagus, I resumed my day. Yet as my body greeted 8am today in the state of nature, with no paracetamol enveloping my body in cotton wool, the gerbil began a tantrum. Silenced by an external force, it was now angrier than ever.

I know that with a careful combination of orange juice, pomegranate seeds, inappropriately warm clothing and cigarette avoidance I can master these sniffles and deflate my unruly gland. I cannot ignore however, the overarching significance of my pubescent throat gland, winter is coming and I am terrified.