What is a man to do if he can’t stop thinking about Lelli Kelly shoes?

I was so barnstormingly bamboozled and convivially chaotic today that all I could think about was Lelli Kelly shoes. I had the same thing last week with custard creams, but it wasn’t so profound or worrying.

Did anybody else have this problem?

I hit the streets like a stumbling drunk and overfed retail therapist on Boxing Day to find out if anybody else had the same problem.

The first person I ran into was a man large enough to be housebound who smelled like a mildewy shower curtain. He had permanent fat sweats and a curious ability to snore whilst awake. To make matters worse he had ginger hair. Such a disgusting human being you can never have seen. Indeed you could trawl all of the world’s flea ridden cess pits hoping to unearth an equally grotty, steaming example of human existence under a rock, and fail. You could visit a third world leper colony, a Bombay prison or a malarial swamp and find less vile and more advanced life forms. His breath was like a rhino’s morning yawn. Speaking to him was no delighting pleasure I can tell you – but I will say this – he was helping me to forget my Lelli Kelly shoes obsession.

This man – Boggis Biffer, who I’m betting is the sweatiest, ugliest most low down gifford ever to breathe – was my first subject to consult about Lelli Kelly shoes.

Against my better judgement and upon my hesitant consultation however he began to grunt incomprehensibly like a seventh generation Tasmanian – so I made my excuses and left.

With a problem that I was now slightly less mindful of and feeling more in need of a shower than a chat about Lelli Kelly shoes I continued along on my quest – which was essentially a quest to validate my harmless eccentricity.

The glowing light at the end of the tunnel came in the form of Libalda Snugginsock. As heavily pregnant as Davina McCall whenever Big Brother hits the screens, she was accompanying no less than four children aged between one and six. Clearly she was as productive as a Chinese Beaver undergoing fertility treatment and as I was about to find out, she also does little bar think about Lelli Kelly shoes.

Libalda, who has three girls, is constantly hounded about them. So could she offer me the redemption my therapist thinks I require?

In the hope of some validation I said: ‘Is it normal that I spend every waking moment thinking about them.’

Alas the bubble bursts.

Libalda answers: ‘Urm, no, not really, not unless you have a pretty good reason. I’ve got three kids mitherin’ me about them shoes none stop’ (and over productive loins I thought to myself).

But in the interests of my sanity it was vital to get some closure, or to find a way to forget about Lelli Kelly shoes.

I called my shrink whose phone went straight to answer phone: The man who told me it was okay to frolic around at dark in skimpy clothing under a Rowan Tree, had alas been located by the Swiss authorities. His message tone conveniently said: ‘If you have a problem, go and do the thing you most dread in the world and you’ll soon forget about it.’

So I frantically ran and caught up with Boggis Biffer and we spent the remainder of the day cuddling.

Fair enough, I’ve stopped obsessing about Lelli Kelly shoes – but I’ve started harbouring much stranger thoughts!