Headache, that’s all he’s been saying all day. I can’t help him, this is his problem. How on earth am I supposed to find a solution? I’m not a doctor, it could be anything.
“Headache!” he shouts, there he goes again, blooming headache.
If he doesn’t stop he’ll be giving me a headache. And then, a moment of inspiration; I shout out, “Migraine, it’s migraine.”
I can hear the excitement in his voice, “Yes, it fits, that’s the answer. You’ve finished my crossword. Well done.”
Well, I do what I can.