There are always lots of toothbrushes in my bathroom. This is because each of my overnight support workers has one for when they’re at the castle. But as I went to bed tonight and looked at the array of coloured plastic and bristles, I thought enough is enough. There’s no way all these brushes can be in active service. So I decided to have a cull.

I removed all the brushes from the rack and put them in a glass. Then I washed the rack and put just my own toothbrush on it.

Over the next week I’ll ask each of my support workers to take their in-use brush out of the glass and put it on the rack. Any toothbrushes in the glass at the end of the week will be considered not in use and banished to the bathroom cupboard.

My tics treated this important task with the seriousness it deserved:

“Last toothbrush in the rack cleans the loo.”
“I’m a French revolutionary – but for toothbrushes.”
“Toothbrushes, you’re more colourful than a rainbow in an extractor fan at a children’s party.”
“I’m auditioning toothbrushes for Alice in Wonderland.”
“It’s judgement day, bristles.”