As one of my clients put it, 'I love my wife so much I'm so in love with her but we don't have sex, I only have sex three times a year and I'm a red blooded man I can't deal with that'.
A starving man, however, little heeds conventional proprieties, especially on a South-Sea Island, and accordingly Toby and I partook of the dish after our own clumsy fashion, beplastering our faces all over with the glutinous compound, and daubing our hands nearly to the wrist.
“And do you realize that in a few shakes I've got to show up at dinner and have Mrs Cream being very, very kind to me? It hurts the pride of the Woosters, Jeeves.” “My advice, sir, would be to fortify yourself for the ordeal.” “How?” “There are always cocktails, sir. Should I pour you another?” “You should.”
Some of the most incredible cases I have ever worked with involve the act of pulling strands of hair from one’s own head. Psychiatrists and psychologists have a twenty-five cent word for this behavior. They call it Trichotillomania.
