There is a Nandos on every street. They are all cheeky. You do not know what makes them cheeky. Each houses a garrison of lads. You do not want to enter, but you cannot resist a cheeky Nandos. The smell of banter and peri peri overwhelms you.
A meerkat is trying to sell you insurance. You have forgotten what the insurance is for. All that matters is the comparison. If you are good and do not protest, the meerkat promises, you will get a free meerkat toy.
Freddos are too expensive. No-one you know remembers a time when they were the right price. You stare at the sweet shelf, lost in the glamour of the Pick’n’mix and the little chocolate frogs.
The DFS sale is now on. It is always now on. Has it ever been off? No matter. It is now on. If you hurry, you can get a year of interest-free payments.
Jamie Oliver is on the television. Jamie Oliver is in your school. Jamie Oliver is in your kitchen, cooking an eight-course banquet in 30 minutes. It’s full of big flavours. He always has enough herbs. You do not ask where he gets them from. You can only be thankful it’s Jamie Oliver and not Heston Blumenthal.
Everyone watched Dick and Dom when they were a child, no matter their age. Do they age? Where have they gone? What was the nature of their bungalow? Are they of the same deathless kindred as Bruce Forsyth? You suspect Graham Norton may also be involved.
There are four candles. Everyone you mention them to thinks you’re talking about utensils.
A car races past you. Behind the wheel is a man screaming about POWER. This is the worst day… in the world.
When you sleep, you can hear Stephen Fry behind your eyelids, asking you about the significance of the march hare to the Aztecs. You say that they worshipped them. Klaxons blare from all around.