Make mine a cranberry, I have the Big C-ystitis

IF men got cystitis the way women get cystitis, it is without doubt that within 24 hours a state of international emergency would be declared.

Cystitis would be designated the same status as that other Big C, and laboratories would work tirelessly for a cure; Bill Gates would overnight abandon his anti-malaria work and pour billions into cystitis research, and the World Health Organisation would leapfrog it to the top of its hit list. Progress on finding a cure would make regular global headlines, with cystitis Special Correspondents nightly updating humanity on the dogged hard work, tenacious experiments, and bold breakthroughs of cystitis-fighting scientists.

But because it’s only women who get it, instead we just wince our way down to the chemist where we are infantilised with sachets of cranberry flavoured salty stuff that doesn’t work and given a vague warning off bubblebath. Cranberry flavoured because cranberry is supposed to do something to alleviate cystitis, and so drug companies think if they flavour their useless salty stuff with a chemical that mimics the taste of little red berries, our little lady heads will be tricked into believing we are purchasing a product that may actually get rid of our cystitis.