They really bloody hurt, I tell you. Corns, that is. Or rather, in my case, corn singular. One is enough, trust me. One is enough to have me wincing, limping, yelping, swearing. One is agony. One is plenty.

My one is on the lateral side of my left fifth metatarsophalangeal joint, which, in English, is the left side of my left foot just below the little toe. It hurts when I’m walking, or standing, sometimes when I’m sitting, and occasionally even when I’m sleeping. Every few months I get it sorted. Thereafter, it’s fine for anything up to 15 minutes before it starts complaining again. While the general pain gradually grows and grows, the complicating factor is that it also comes and goes. I believe that this is the corn entertaining itself by making me forget about it before issuing a terrible reminder that it’s still in business.

If you see me around, say, on a train or in a pub, and I suddenly let out a short, piercing howl,........

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