Today a man on a bus took a card out of his pocket and asked me if I recognised what was on it.
I admitted that I recognised the Robinson's golly from the marmalade, though I felt like I was admitting that I was a member of the Nazi party, as it was all done so furtively. The man, up to then, had appeared quite pleasant and normal.
But I have no idea why he felt it necessary to carry around a covert copy of old advertising, not why he felt it important to ask me, though I believe there was alcohol involved. At least, after this episode I felt I needed a stiff drink.
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