Is there any part of human life that hasn’t been turned into a medical condition?

When Greg, my old uni pal, came to stay from NYC he brought with him an extra bag for his pills: vitamins A, B, C, D, zinc, magnesium, selenium, ginseng. They decamped to the kitchen, the pills, and stood in rows beside the kettle awaiting their morning ritual. They were bigger than British versions, I noticed, and more violently coloured.

Come breakfast, Greg requested pomegranate juice, not for taste but for antioxidants, and orange juice for electrolytes. Then there was lunch. We’d be nearing the end of a trek round some royal palace when suddenly Greg’s voice would flatten: ‘You know, I think my blood sugar’s getting low?’ Then, in a dangerous monotone: ‘I need to eat.’

At first I didn’t take much notice. Greg isn’t diabetic or thin. This turned out to be a mistake. The lower his ‘blood sugar levels’ dropped, the worse Greg’s mood became, and because it was medical he saw no need to buck up.