After some freakishly good impersonations of Tom’s maniacal laughter, the sketch culminated in Ferguson putting a finger to his lips and exclaiming in a whisper-shout, “Tom! You’re a MAN! Shhhhhhhh! SHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

This excellent advice came to mind when I visited a neurologist. I was amazed by this young doctor’s ability to give an efficient, professional diagnosis of a variation of migraine, while talking more or less continuously. I was even more amazed at how many times he was able to offend a person during the course of a single consultation, while talking continuously and diagnosing migraines. Incredible multi-tasking.

“So, how old are you?” he asked, after filling me in on the details of his wife’s higher education, while checking my reflexes.

“Twenty-five”, I answered, stifling a giggle. It just feels so funny.

“Really?! That’s young to have a baby!” he burst out with, while hammering lightly at my knees. “Most people are in their thirties nowadays when they start having kids.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this exactly, but offered that 50 years ago it was the norm, so perhaps the trend will change again eventually. He shrugged and shined a torch in my eyes.

As our fairly one-sided conversation continued, he got on a roll.

On hearing I was married at 21: “What?!…WHY??”

On hearing I had complications after the birth: “Meh, you get over that stuff.”

On me having a caesar delivery for breech: “Ohhhhh, you did it the EASY way.”

It was at this point, I snapped.

“Ok buster, all comparisons to natural childbirth aside, I’d like to see you have abdominal surgery, look after a newborn baby during your six weeks recovery, then come back and tell me it was EASY.”

That’s what I would like to have said. In reality, I just managed to rouse myself from an outraged stupor to mutter something about there not really being an easy way to produce a baby, before he cut in:

“You should try natural childbirth – they ALL complain about that.”

Before I could convince myself that this doctor has a really, REALLY dry sense of humour – to prevent myself snatching that hammer from his hand and using it heck knows where – he was already busy telling me all about how much it was going to cost to have his wife’s Yamaha shipped over from Singapore.

I sighed inwardly, and considered the advice of Craig Ferguson to such hilarious persons:

“ShhhhHHHHHHHHH!!!!”