It feels like the end of the world, doesn't it? Each time you know what's going to happen, and all about the few days of suffering that will follow. But each time you just can't stand the thought of having that little pokey one millimetre flap of skin sitting there. And so you bite down on it, and slowly, agonisingly drag it down your finger, bringing skin with you and leaving a sore trail of destruction in its wake

And then if things get really hairy, you might momentarily forget all about it a few hours later and dip your hand into a bag of salt and vinegar crisps

KILL ME NOW