Today I sat through a meeting, full of the great and the good, and the mostly awful. Everyone had something to say, all of it self-congratulating, self-serving and smug. I sat there, smiled a lot, gritted my teeth and fidgeted.

In an alternate universe, after a particularly horrendous and gratuitous monologue by one of the participants at this meeting, I would get up, kick this gentleman in the shins, say something particularly cutting (which I would probably only think of after leaving the room - this is, after all, an alternate universe, and not a perfect universe - I can't re-write my inability to think of a snappy retort on time, just my circumstances) and then stomp out of the room, leaving no one in any doubt as to what I thought of the process, of them, and of the entire sorry state of the nation.

I assume they would all sit there in silence, for a while, stunned by my outburst. Then they would probably all start to dissect my reaction, probably blame it on PMT or stress or something else, and the next day, I am sure I would have many visits from concerned stakeholders, just wanting to talk to me about my mental health and my well-being.

In this alternate universe, I would tell each and every one of them to go and f*** themselves. I'd probably be sectioned, eventually. But it would definitely be worth every motherf**cking minute of it.