He doesn't just go to ASDA. He parks up outside it (not well. I think he's used to being chauffeured), strolls straight past the trolleys, grabs a basket, severely overfills the basket with John West tuna and eight or so packets of rich tea biscuits, regrets his choice of basket, huffs dramatically, drops the basket by his feet whilst he asks a member of staff to go collect a trolley for him and sighs into a tiger loaf whilst he waits.

I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon — but here, I am a writer.

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