A happy half hour spent with Postman Patel this afternoon, listening to his plans to turn his teeny-tiny post office into a supermegamart.
Already stocked with ciggies and booze, he's going to be carrying a variety of household lines, including 'bathroom tissue', and was keen to learn which brand I use.
"You an effing bloody Andrex bloody man or something a bit bloody effing cheaper?" he chirped. "'Cos I'm only effing bloody going to stock a couple of effing brands." I assured him I was strictly Andrex, and that the prospect of applying Izal to the Eastcliff derrière made me wince.
Shooting off on a completely different tack, he then proceeded to explain how many prostitutes there are in the area. "They don't effing stay in one effing bloody place, they bloody move around."
Well, a Millionaire's Playground is bound to attract an underclass, I suppose, and at least it seems they're giving value for money.