Monday 26th of January 2015

annabel has some nits...



But there is one existentially scorching brand of humiliation that towers above all, and it owes its existence to the animal kingdom.

I speak, with grim and recently acquired expertise, of the Adult Nit Infestation.

Getting nits as an adult is quite different from getting nits as a child.

When you are a child, you genuinely don’t care.

And to the extent that you do, in any event, you will in all likelihood be absolutely satisfied with the assurance that “head lice prefer clean hair”.

(When I was a kid, I completely accepted this claim, filing it unquestioningly among other fascinating oddities from the natural world, like migrating eels, or the thing where in seahorse families it’s the dad who gets pregnant. As an adult, however, I recognise the clean-hair theory as a transparent piece of politically-correct propaganda. Why would a louse care whether hair is dirty or clean? And what choice does it have, anyway?)

As an adult, the discovery that one is harbouring an unspecified number of small scuttling insects in one’s hair brings about a number of confronting results.

The first is the immediate collapse of about 200,000 years of evolutionary history. Sure, you might be able to calculate Pi to 300 places, hold your end up in a conversation about neoclassicism, or construct a croquembouche. But once you’ve got things living in your hair, you’re starkly reminded that 99 per cent of your genetic code is pretty much straight-out bonobo monkey.

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apologies from gus leonisky...

Sorry, Annabel... I could not resist doing the toon...