Is it just ME?

Or do you get diet rage, too?

Desperate for lunch, I ring the speaking clock. Surely it’s later than 10am?

WHAT’S guaranteed to send you into a rage? Trying to get through to a utility company on the phone? Turning up for a train and hearing the words ‘bus replacement service?’ How about being so ravenously hungry you’d consider slathering your arm in ketchup and biting into it?

For many of us, a diet doesn’t just mean limiting calories, it also means a limited tolerance of others. Hunger, plus misery, plus other people equals rage.

If proof were needed of ‘diet rage’, it came last week in the form of Vincent McKevitt, who pleaded guilty to assaulting a bouncer in a nightclub.

The millionaire boss of Tossed, a chain of salad restaurants, blamed his restrictive diet for his uncharacteristic outburst.

As well he might. Studies have found that ‘diet rage’ is a legitimate condition. US scientists discovered the sheer willpower it takes to deprive yourself of food is enough to cause feelings of anger and aggression and that people on a diet were more likely to watch an angry film than a gentle, romantic one.

When I’m on a diet I always start the day full of positivity as I tuck into my yoghurt and black coffee breakfast. Before long I’m desperate for lunch and ring the talking clock to check the time. Surely it’s later than 10am?

By dinner, I’m like a fractious toddler. Woe betide anyone who nearly trips me with a wheelie suitcase or is on the wrong side of the escalator as I go home.

I can’t cheer myself up with a night out. I refuse to pay €15 in a restaurant for a pile of leaves and don’t trust myself not to succumb to the calorific stuff, so I generally go to bed early to stave off the hunger pangs, which only fuels the foul temper.

I’ve yet to punch anyone, but Vincent’s right: lettuce may be great for your health, but it’s lousy for your mood.