The ‘ticcing fit’ I had the other evening seemed pretty run-of-the-mill to start with until, much to Will’s amusement, I suddenly started going on about cells. This started simply enough:

“Terror cell, Duracell or carousel? Choose.”

Followed closely by:

“Cellphone, cellophane, sell a cat.”

Then they just got silly:

“I’m going to sell the Billy Goats Gruff some acid.”
“Cellophane or Bo’ Selecta? Choose.”
“Organ Grinding Astronaut Splinter Cell 4, Douglas Hurd speaking.”
“Pick up your cells and walk.”
“Let’s celebrate cells.”
“I’m going to sell a horse a forty-inch piano.”

Cue musical interlude (To the tune of Save Your Kisses For Me)

“Sell all your kisses to Steve,
Sell all your kisses to Steve,
Sell all your kisses to Steve
and Janet Street-Porter.”

“Buy cats, sell cats, buy cats, sell cats, buy cats, sell cats, buy a cat flap.

“Put me in a padded cell with Nicholas Lyndhurst and a bottle of water.”

“Don’t wrap a plane in cellophane, sell a field to Sellafield.”

There’s not much to say other than:

“Who knew about cells?”

At the end Will said, “I know Tourettes is unpredictable, but cells?”