This is the way we write our blog, write our blog...

You have a three-quarters-used ketchup bottle at home?

The one which has a thick ring of ketchup building up near the opening, however freely-flowing it is marketed as being, and which refuses to ooze slowly back down unless you dip a finger in and push it down, or wipe it off and lick it off, which only makes your tongue curse you for assaulting it with all that acid-y stuff without any dressing?

The kind of bottle which refuses to discharge the ketchup except in splatter-filled spurts after you squeeze like Popeye (just like when you try to burst an unripened boil - and now you're going to get that image when you next use such a bottle, aren't you?) and with all sorts of disgustingly flatulent noises (which are fun if you're at home and trying to put other people off their food, so that there'll be more for you, but embarrassing as heck when it happens while you're at your local joint, leading to the two old dears in the corner purse their lips as they fight down the urge to take you by the ear and smack you for not having learnt manners)?

The kind that has lots of the stuff in it, because you can see it there for fuckssake, but which you have to work hard at to cajole out, and then it all bursts out and you always end up with more than you want, and then you have to open the top and scoop some back in, because you know otherwise that there's going to be a time when you'll really want some and there won't be any and you'll be bitching about how short-sighted you were and curse yourself for not spreading it out (hah! pun!)?

The kind which you just sometimes look at, and wonder if it's worth all the effort, and whether you should just opt for the sweet-chilli sauce instead, or even better, the green Tabasco?

You know that kind of bottle?

So then you understand.