Why stop at one inner critic? I have a whole extended family of balloon heads on sticks. When I need a new reason to put on my tiara with the big diamond-studded "L", then lie awake staring at the ceiling , I run the newsreel of my worst moments.

"Hey, have a look at this one - it's the time you cheated on your boyfriend, then covered it up by getting mad at him! You're good! Oops, here's a compilation of all those emails you shouldn't have sent!"

My toxic balloon-head family make the imaginary burnt popcorn, and leave the litre container of vanilla ice cream on the counter, so it's all warm and melted.

But that's OK. I just use a straw. ("resilience.")