There are times when it is necessary to bite the bullet rather than fire it . . .

IN THE aftermath of International Happiness Day (last Friday, in case you missed it), I’m angry. Well, not really angry – just permanently slightly simmering, like a wee Roman candle with a long wick and a short fuse, which is my default setting these days. Calm down dear, I hear you cry. As does Harvard Medical School, whose researches have revealed that outbursts of “volcanic rage considerably increase the chances of heart attack and strokes”.

You don’t say? Never thought of that before. Since the days of ancient Greek humours (no, not how much does a Grecian earn), we have been told that mood and outlook affect temperament and health, so no change there then. I reckon failing to read anything about any form of medical research might be a way to live a longer, happier and calmer life but that’s just me.

In my case, I suspect having to suppress, hold in and otherwise smother potential bouts of steaming fury probably do my creaking system far more harm than letting it all hang out and shouting it from the rooftops.

I am all for civilised behaviour in all walks of life, much though I often feel this goes against the grain of human nature and that we would, for the most part, be better off asserting the apoplexy and getting it out there for the world to marvel over and then make considerable personal efforts to escape. But since I am also the kind of person who can hold a grudge for Scotland, I have to admit that all is not over, done with, dusted, forgotten and forgiven when that spleen is well and truly vented. Rather like nude dancing, in my particular harbour of resentment, not everything stops when the music does.

However, I do realise that there are many times in this trying existence of ours when it is not only desirable but downright necessary to bite the bullet rather than fire it. Right-on actress Gwyneth Paltrow and her rocker husband Chris Martin may currently be taking a lot of stick for their high-minded insistence that their marriage split is not a rancorous separation but a “conscious uncoupling”; as someone who would be hurling the furniture and spitting tacks, I for one take my hat off to them for at least attempting to lessen the horrors all round for everyone, especially their children.

As long as they manage to keep it up and prevent the marital magma blasting through the surface calm. My experience of divorce is that at least one of the parties – and most often both – is not so much consciously uncoupling as struggling with the urge to beat the other part of the couple unconscious. As a sage if somewhat folksy friend of mine used to say in situations like these: “There’ll be a hell of stink when the chanty bursts.”

You can, of course, train yourself in techniques of calm, serenity and discipline and that must be good for the soul as well as the moral fibre – and the health, if our aforementioned academics are to be believed. But I am my father’s daughter and I do tend to believe that there is only so much you can do to fight the effects of heredity and sheer thrawn bloodymindedness. Bless him.

Mind you, there might be something in what the boffins say. When I’m absolutely beelin’, I actually don’t tend to shout that much. I get all Lady Bracknell, bung full of elongated vowels, carefully enunciated phrases and basilisk stares that would stun a stoat at 40 paces. I am reliably informed that I can squeeze more highly pointed meaning out of the softly spoken phrase: “I beg your pardon?” than actually exists in the world of stressed or unstressed syllables. And it makes me feel so much better.

It’s the quiet ones that are the worst . . . KOREAN “Dear leader” Kim Jong-Un has apparently decreed that young men adopt his highly distinctive hairstyle. The one that looks as if a Siberian hamster has fallen asleep on his head. Most men, I surmise, wear toupees to make it look like they’ve got hair. Why would anyone, especially a man with the power of life and death over his people, including, presumably, hairdressers, get a haircut that looks like a toupee? Asking him might be a major error of judgement, of course . . .

God was supposed to have created mankind in his own image so I suppose if you are a trainee despot with a somewhat skewed vision of your place in history, it makes a kind of twisted sense to make everyone look like you, like permanently looking in a mirror. And, scarily, it might start a trend elsewhere, although I don’t see Alex Salmond getting very far with it.

I wonder if Boris Johnson is going to stand for parliament after all?

Picture: AP I take my hat off to Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin for at least attempting to lessen the horrors all round for everyone, especially their children.