I go on an unenthusiastic single-male type trip to Sainsburys.
A wee girl stands eating a creme egg at the end of an aisle with a streak of chocolatety dribble down her face. It works for me. I buy some.
Two blokes behind me in the queue discuss salad dressings and whether they've got enough balsamic vinegar. Then they talk about hard maths. They don't make me buy anything.
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