Last Monday, I stopped being able to pee without literature. I'm not talking volumes of Proust - what serial killer keeps them in the bog? - so much as more accessible toilet text. Instructions, warnings, ingredients I will never know the colour of. I can say for certain that I have read the entire back catalogue of L'oreal, depending on which variant my flatmate gravitates towards in the chemist each week. I am the most thoroughly qualified person I know to administer a hairwash.