This evening a new vocal tic burst onto the scene and has carried on for several hours so far. The last time I remember a tic arriving in such a flurry was “hedgehog”, a few years ago. Any new vocal tics tend to creep in gradually, gently embedding themselves in my repertoire.

But there’s nothing discreet about my latest addition.

“I’m a catheter bag!”

It’s completely random and I can categorically state that catheter bags haven’t been on my mind recently, and (unless it’s deeply buried somewhere in my sub-conscious) I’ve never had a traumatic experience with one.

But it’s not the first time I’ve made far-fetched claims about myself:

“I’m a bi-sexual Christmas tree.”
“I’m a claim form.”
“I’m a Lebanese balloon animal.”

For a long time I regularly ticced “I’m a baby” and I often use this as an example of a non-swearing tic that was much trickier to deal with than any of the rude ones. Try being strict with a teenager or getting a shop assistant to take you seriously when you’re constantly saying, “I’m a baby.”

So after five minutes reflection (and another 50 catheter bags) I’ve realised I’m happier to be a catheter bag than a baby, any day.