I take it all back. Sitting here in one of Soho's finest edit facilities, slaving over my latest directorial masterpiece (Smell The Profit for the Polish Cheese Board), I ordered my usual lunch of tricolore salad from Ed the runner. Afterwards I commented how tasty his toms were.
'They're from your part of the world,' he replied. And sure enough, he whipped out the above packet from the kitchen area. I must say, every bite was like a little burst of Thanet sunshine exploding in the old Eastcliff bouche! Never again will I moan about 'watery toms' and 'battery-farmed vegetables'.
Still, I did make sure Ed had washed them throughly before preparing lunch. After all, you never know who might have picked them!