When I tell recent transitioners about how, 20 years ago, I was required to socially transition without hormones to prove I was serious, they are appalled.

I hope in 20 years, people are similarly incredulous that in 2026, ADHD treatment involves strictly rationing the number of hours you spend as a functional adult each day, with "eight" being considered an acceptable number.

Like, I get 12. 14 on a good day.

And I regard that as cruel and inadequate, but my prescriber is one of the progressive ones for giving me that much.

And it isn't like transfemale HRT where you can just say, "screw your crappy meds regime, I'm getting my own".

Because ... well getting your own all gets a bit Breaking Bad very quickly.

Still, could be worse. The tales I hear my American chaos goblin friends tell about getting their meds are horrific to me. Apparently their authorities cap the amount of ADHD medication that is made each year at significantly below the level required to medicate everyone prescribed it, sort of like airline overbooking.

And then they watch as people get to go cold turkey every month and engage in some Hunger Games, Pharmacy Edition, shite to try and get hold of them.

While in withdrawal.

Twats.

In his culturally significant work of 1995, Mr Cocker gives an allegedly autobiographical account of a night spent in a field in the southern English county of Hampshire. The account is based on a claim, supposedly overheard, that someone makes detailing their abundant possession of a number of substances which probably include a mixture persil and chalk dust.

These, however, would generally be regarded as excipients, resold considerably above their retail value. The significant active ingredients of the mixture would be 3,4 methelyne dioxy N-methyl dextro alpha metyhl phenethylamine (“Molly”) and its base compound, dextro alpha methyl phenethylamine (“Benny”)

These are both monoamine neurotransmitter releasing agents and monoamine neurotransmitter reuptake inhibitors, with significant efficacy on the monoamines, dopamine and noradrenaline.

Mr Cocker elaborates by noting that in the middle of the night, the experience of consuming inadvisable amounts of these substances is an agreeable one. Their relatively short period of efficacy, however, results in levels of the two aforementioned monoamine neurotransmitters becoming clinically depleted at around 6am.

In a phone call to his mother, perhaps from a BT phone booth as this story occurs just before the wide scale adoption of cellular telephones and certainly ones that would still have significant charge at this point, the storyteller laments to his mother a “horrible feeling” which “grows and grows” and leads him to deduce the absence of an “important part” of his brain.

That Mr Cocker describes monoamine insufficiency as a “horrible feeling” leads your author to regret her lack of mastery of the tiny violin as she, perhaps understandably but uncharitably contributes, “welcome to my normal life, you daft bastard. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.