Colic, it’s safe to say, sucks. But I found a cure. Mrs Bigmouth and I painted our heads blue, ate nothing but paint and cardboard for three weeks, danced an irish jig under the silvery moon at precisely 3.02am every morning and shouted “cakes!” every time we saw a magpie. And you know what? The colic went away!

I know what you’re thinking, Mister Science Man. You’re thinking that there’s no way we could have cured colic with our Blue Head Paint and Cardboard Diet Moondance Cake Shout Therapy. But we did, so nerrrrr. Colic goes away by itself eventually? A few babies may have a mild lactose intolerance that’s easily sorted with over-the counter drops? Some of the symptoms are due to overtiredness and overstimulation? I HAVE MY FINGERS IN MY EARS AND I CANNOT HEAR YOU NYAH NYAH NYAH NYAH.

Ahem.

Mrs Bigmouth occasionally visits new-mum messageboards where parents and crazed alterna-health mentalists talk about the various ups and downs of parenting, and at the moment some of them are discussing cranial osteopathy, the ancient(ish) art of parting parents from their money. It’s a load of old toss, but of course the voices of reason keep coming up against the same immovable force: “Yeah but it worked for me!”

I understand it, I really do. Colic’s awful, you don’t want your kid to suffer, and you’ll try anything – and because colic eventually goes away, if you’ve been taking your kid to a quack you’ll naturally think the quackery cured your child. But let’s be sensible here. Handing over your cash to someone who believes in secret magic brain pulses and skull-rubbing to fix physiological issues caused by a traumatic birth isn’t smart. You’d be better off hiring a patient babysitter and going to the cinema for a few hours.