"Well, I have done that a couple of times but it tastes so horrible," he complained.
I reminded him of the times in my very early years when I was regularly dosed with syrup of figs and - worse - Milk of Magnesia, all because I was one of those unfortunate beings who are not 'regular'. (I won't elaborate on this in case you are of a delicate disposition. Suffice it to say, I spent half my early childhood being strongly encouraged to be 'regular'.)
"So, I'm afraid I have no sympathy," I said, grimly.