"He's got sweaty what?"

Seriously, there is no deodorant good enough for me. Who else do you know that has sweaty eyebrows? Now it’s the summer I seem to spend half of my time lifting the sleeve of my T-shirts up to my face to mop my brow, or eyebrow to be more precise. That gets me some strange looks. Not half as strange however when I don’t dry them; my face becomes awash with sweat so that I look like someone’s turned the heating up in Madame Toussouds. A melting wax countenance is not attractive by any stretch of the imagination.

Wearing glasses also exaggerates the dilemma. The frame that rests on the bridge of my nose gets slippery and slides down to the edge of my nostrils so I look like I’m doing an impression of a disapproving librarian who’s just seen someone put a book back on the wrong shelf.

Maybe I’m cursed. Born with sweat glands in all the wrong places. Afflicted with a sweating syndrome which will see me ingrained in the annals of the Guineas Book of Records – Freak Special. Although I rather fear I might be making my way into that one without the aid of a sweaty forehead and a soaking wet T-shirt sleeve. How many people do you know that not only have sweaty eyebrows but divulge that information to unsuspecting strangers? I thought as much. Freak Special here I come.