I could do with a balaclava right about now. My girl has been self-isolating in the spare room for a week, the flat is freezing and I don’t know how to work the heating. What’s the difference between ‘Auto’ and ‘Once’ on a boiler? Does anyone really understand radiators? I keep pulling my beanie down over my ears, my chin is fucking icicles.

It’s remarkable how quickly you revert to type when you take your partner out the equation. Yesterday all I ate was a bag of Onion Rings. Gifts remain unwrapped  — I’ll get to it, I’ll get to it. Recycling mounts in the kitchen. Multiple pairs of shoes litter the floor. On the patio there’s a bucket of frozen fag butts I’ll have to take a chisel to. I can’t even be bothered to switch the Christmas tree lights on  — my festive glow comes from a paused game of Call of Duty: Vanguard.

The balaclava may have come to prominence back in the Crimean War, but I reckon its true calling is to stop idiots like me from shivering while watching Girls5eva.

When she’s not doing time (eating fish finger sandwiches on a blow-up bed) my girl has been known to champion the balaclava. Typically ahead of the game, she bought one ages ago from Deima Knitwear. I think her motivations were more vibe-based than practical, but she’s had some decent wear out of it; multiple chunky hair slides poking out just so. Big with the girls (Ganni, Aries, Shrimps etc…) not really blown-up for the boys, that’s where the balaclava is right now.

This hand knitted, stripy number from obscuro Korean brand Bal is unlikely to change the social dynamics of the balaclava. But, I have to say, I’m feeling it. As woollen helmets go, the one with the red and blue stripe is properly turbo.

£80 for something that looks as robustly ridiculous as this makes a lot of sense to me. I dunno how much wear I get from it outside the house. But with Darth Plagueis in the spare room coupled with my inability to program the boiler, this balaclava is looking like a nice place to hide. I’m off to warm my hands under the hot tap.