Is it a hardy annual of our times? Something that in other ages was just thought of as an ingredient of a life to be lived, like Happiness or Pain or Death?  No doubt my grandad experienced what we would call “stress” but, there again, the Germans were trying to shoot his bollocks off – not as traumatic, I grant you, as many of the challenges of today’s modern life, such as KFC running out of chicken or poor quality 5G signal, but nevertheless something to concentrate his mind.

And how much less manageable is it these days?  A workmate of mine employed a simple solution.  “When work gets me down I go home and play with the wife’s tits for half an hour.  That shifts it”, he said.

Of course, other therapies are available.  Personally, I used a box.  A mental one.  Professionals might call it “suspended denial” or somesuch.  Whatever was bothering me I’d set aside until I scheduled myself time to deal with it.  “It’s in the box”, I’d say if someone asked me about it.

But a recent visit to the dentist revealed an even better remedy (and substitute if tits aren’t handy).  After the treatment I said to the dentist, “You soon forget your other troubles when you sit in this chair, don’t you?”

Every home should have one.