Roger came over for tea last night, and with all the talk of local delicacies, we decided to slum it a bit and try our local chippy.
The fish and chips looked first class, but we were slightly put out by the sight of the man queuing in front of us, who at first glance appeared to have one of those 70s, punk style paperclips through his septum.
We needn't have worried unduly, though. When the fellow turned round it became apparent that what we had imagined was a bent paperclip through the fellow's nose was nothing more worrying than two rivulets of rather viscous snot which, having dribbled from each nostril, had subsequently joined forces to form a kind of phlegmy wishbone.
Now that's something you don't see in Folkestone.