Sometimes I stare at Gwyneth Paltrow's glossy hair or think of as many "That's what she said" jokes as I can.

"I shampooed my hair," I tell him in the same seductive tone that one would adopt to describe the colour of their underwear. "No seriously, you don't understant the gravity of this - I washed my hair!"
He stares at me, wondering whether I am honouring or mocking him.
"If there was a tribe of Kritikas," I elaborate solemnly. "Washing our hair would be like our mating call."