I’ve spent my whole life searching for the perfect pillow. Will this torment never end? | Adrian Chiles

I must own two dozen pillows - and not one of them will guarantee me a good night's sleep. Maybe if I buy just one more ...

Happiness is a comfortable pillow. Not that I would know, as I've never had one. If ever I do find one at a hotel or some such, I will certainly steal it. Even if I've chanced upon it sleeping in a high-security establishment such as the White House, or a prison, I will risk the consequences of being caught smuggling it out - it's that important. Before I die, I must find a pillow that works for me. And then I will die happy, not least because I will leave instructions for my head to rest upon it in my coffin for eternity.

Buying a pillow is like buying a bed, or a house. You can't know if any of these things will work for you until you have spent a few nights living with them. You can't try them out properly. Yes, I know there are companies that will take your pillow or bed back after 100 days or whatever if you are dissatisfied. But I never believe them. They wouldn't really take them back, would they? And I'm not sure I would ever be bothered to take a pillow back, lugging it down the post office squished into some giant envelope. Apart from the faff, there is the shame of having snored and snuffled and dribbled and drooled upon it. No one deserves to have to deal with that.