Well today was inevitable, you don’t eat plenty of wheat for a couple of days without inevitable self combustion and that is what I was greeted with instantly on my awaking this morning. I’m lucky that at the end of my bed is an en suite bathroom including my dear friend, the toilet. After the rude awakening what I needed more than anything else in the world was of course another bowl of lovely wheaty Kellogg’s Mini Max. The thing is I really like them, they taste good and are probably one of the more image conscious cereals of the cereal world with there crunchy sugarry whisp of hair on top. Despite what was a painful start to the day I genuinely enjoyed this bowl. I foolishly figured that after that bout of agony first thing I was in the ‘safety zone’ for another IBS episode so as I stood confidently in the ‘basket’s only’ queue in Sainsbury’s imagine my surprise whilst staring at an offer for detergent when my stomach started cramping and the ticking time bomb that is my large intestine started throwing its weight around, I dropped the basket and waddled in to the Sainsbury’s toilet for a long time, a very long time, I didn’t need to look at my watch to figure that out, the man that kept coming in (perhaps he had been eating Mini Max too) and swearing angrily about how someone was still in the one and only cubicle told me that. Oh Mini Max, I love your taste so why treat me like this?