If anyone ever invents an effective cure for snoring, I shall be first in the queue to fall at their feet, weeping with joy and relief. You see, I have been sharing a bed with England’s Worst Snorer (I crowned him myself – with a cricket bat!!) for the last 18 years. And it’s not just after a few pints of Raddled Old Git. It’s pretty constant. Oh rest assured we’ve been through everything on the shelves – nasal strips, sprays, I’ve tied tennis balls to his ankles, sewn ping pong balls into his pjs, bought special pillows, even sent him for tests but nothing, I repeat ABSOLUTELY NOTHING works.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve found myself standing over him clutching a pillow in sleep-deprived, deluded and misguided thoughts that 30 years in Holloway might at least give me a decent 8 hours. But my irrational fear of getting up before 7.30am snaps me back to reality. Spare room you say? Nope, still hear it. Ear plugs? Useless. Sound-reducing headphones? Not terribly suitable for a good night’s kip and anyway, I’d still hear it.

“It’s the soft palate”,

the specialist said.

“It’s too low. And restricts breathing. Resulting in short periods where the person is unable to breathe. Usually they start to breathe again after 10 seconds but a sharp intake through a small hole results in excessive noise”.

Only 10 seconds? 8 hours would be better.

You can have surgery, apparently. They use a laser to burn away the soft palate. But it’s not guaranteed to work so it seems rather cruel to put the poor bugger through all that. So I just live in hope that one day someone will find a cure before I do. Especially mine all seem to be wood or feather-based!