Six months later, having borne unspeakable loss of blood, jaws that stubbornly refused to open and continued to complain in wrenching, excruciating suffering, indignantly puffed out cheeks, and protests such as "But, mummy if you don't eat anything you'll die!" (and, later, concern yielding to outrageous irreverence, "Why don't you go on the Zee Horror Show?") - I was still waiting for the "discomfort" to wear away.

Firmly of that cheerful school of thought which vouches that Everything Happens For The Best, I recognised this as a Sign that I must now turn to AlternativeMedicine. Reiki was easy to acquire. It was a well organised business, and all you needed was some money and a couple of weekends to spare. Very soon, I found myself revelling in incredible sensations of warmth and goodwill flowing from my finger tips. My scepticism fell aside and I sped headlong into the study of Reiki. When people sniggeringly asked whether I was now qualified to send Reiki over the telephone I informed them patiently that Reiki needs no phones. It can be sent to anyone, anywhere, across time and space. Yes, like going on the Web.

I even went so far as to become a Reiki Master. Shouldn't that be Reiki Mistress, my friend Amita frowned. But somehow, I just didn't fancy calling myself a Mistress. And, like any fresh convert, I began regaling all my friends and acquaintances with my new powers.

Until I realised that it was "Not if I see you first!" that they were muttering in reply to my "See you soon". In an attempt to regain some credibility, I pinched four enormous volumes onHomoeopathic Medicine from a certain kind person and, staggering under their weight, embarked on a voyage of knowledge and discovery.

Soon my mind was agog with all manner of preparations. There was Xanthoxylum and Argentum, Chamomila and Pulsatilla, Gnaphal-ium and Lycopodium, Sanguinaria and Staphis-agria...It was a quaint and faraway world, a poet's dream.

Of the many useful and interesting dysfunctions I learnt about, I soon noticed a wide gap between what they called Men's Problems and Women's Problems. The first focused on virility, performance and endurance. Women's Pro-blems, by contrast were, one and all, stern attempts to sort out their messy and disgusting internal plumbing. Indignant, I sought for means to inform forthwith the Politically-Incorrect Language pe-ople forthwith.

Homoeopathy, I also discovered, had sweet and simple, miraculous provisions for everything from fever, warts and piles to the pains of childbirth, shyness, and masturbation. Making out a list for brain tonic, cures fortalkativeness, chocolate addiction and pain in the neck, I rushed to the friendly neighbourhood homoeopathy shop. And found, to my dismay, that a huge population had had the news in advance, and were waiting their turn before me.

A disinterested and incredibly po-faced woman stood placidly behind the counter, ignoring the waiting customers with unmistakable satisfaction. I whiled away my time thinking up a homeopathic remedy for her condition. And for those of you who have had a similar experience, here is my prescription: Silli Nit. or Silli Tart. For the first few days, stick to Yucks Vom. If none of this works, give her a dose of her own medicine: Kali Bich.