First cushion once removed

On any right-thinking person's list of the many things the world could well do without, wasps, water cress and Quentin Tarantino films would surely feature prominently. None of these examples, however, can hold a candle to the most disposable of them all: household cushions.

The ancient Mesopotamians - aided and abetted a bit later by the redoubtable Egyptians - are apparently to blame for the introduction of these nuisances many thousands of years ago and they've been getting in the way of everything and everybody ever since.

For example, the presence of cushions on a hotel bed which already has plentiful pillows to its name, signifies two things: one, your room is going to be a lot more expensive than it needs to be and, two, the offending items will spend the entire duration of your stay balanced precariously on top of the mini bar.

Meanwhile, cushions in a domestic setting offer no relief whatsoever from the tyranny of inconvenience and discomfort. If you're a guest in someone else's house, you'll inevitably end up putting one of their many cushions on your lap and picking at it nervously while wriggling your hips surreptitiously trying to locate the minuscule area of the settee that has failed to be 'cushioned' (this spot is otherwise known as 'the only comfortable bit'.) If, on the other hand it's your own home, following any given purchase of the items in question, you'll spend twenty four hours trying to pretend that they're actually bringing something useful to the party, before giving up entirely and tossing them onto the floor, sighing profoundly as your body eagerly seizes the opportunity to return to its natural form.

Well, imagine my surprise, then, when, in spite of these facts, I found myself buying a couple of cushions just this morning. I know, I must have had a fever coming on or something; it's inexplicable. I'd actually intended to buy a drill. The - admittedly enormous - cushions even managed to pull off their favourite party piece of inconveniencing everybody present on the bus ride back home. A Scottish gentleman actually apologised to one of them for bumping into it. I muttered 'No pasa nada' on its behalf.

Having said all of that, I did get a couple of complicit glances from sympathetic women as I toddled through the crowded streets. Women seem to rather like cushions, for reasons that are not entirely clear, even to themselves, I suspect. So, lads, forget Tinder or endless lonesome hours learning a musical instrument and get yourselves down to Dunnes Stores home furnishings department - it's a surefire winner in the romance department.

Anyway, I've now arranged the cushions on the sofa which means I can't actually sit on it, obviously, but I must say they do look rather good - from the extremely cushionless chair just across the room.

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