The comedian and writer Robin Ince described having an “angry heckler” in his head. I thought ‘hmm.. that sounds familiar’.

I’ve always struggled with that internal voice. It starts talking the moment I’m off guard, usually when I go for a piss in the night. 

Also, when I’m trying to relax, when I’m not moving, when I’m not engaged by something.

‘Hiya paaaaaal,’ he says, like Harry from Home Alone, as soon as I stumble from bed. ‘I’ve got a few things to tell you… 

‘Remember what you said earlier to that person, that was stupid… They must think you’re a dick.

‘Oh, and what about that thing that’s happening that you can do nothing about? Let’s let that swirl around for days, yeah?

‘You’ve got work tomorrow? How long until you get found out?’

All the while, there’s a record in the background – maybe The Village Green Preservation Society by The Kinks.

A song you normally appreciate, but not at 2am played endlessly by a lunatic.

Before you know it, all the tabs are open, the radio is detuned, many images emerge between the static.

And, it takes an hour to quieten it down to fall asleep again.

I know I’d be happier without the critic, the commentator, the chatterer, and I wish I could rip it out of my skull.

I don’t need it. 

Neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor lost her inner voice following a stroke.

She described it as a ‘dramatic silence’ – which sounds like bliss. 

I don’t want to have a stroke. I just need the off switch.