While biting into my brie, basil and tomato poncewich today I noticed that luncheon whores Pret A Manger are now giving away their secret magic recipes on the back of their conscientiously recycled paper bags. The economy has spazzed out so badly that now even the most shamelessly overpriced high street eateries are advising us to make our own fucking lunch.
What next? Will Woolworths plaster the windows of their rapidly emptying retail outlets with placards recommending that each member of the general public open their own shitty knock-down tat store in their garage? Could Clarks simply give up selling shoes overnight and start handing out leaflets detailing how to entice magical shoemaking elves into our homes? Will B&Q shut up shop and recommend that next time you need a hammer you just pop round to Peter Sutcliffe’s house?
These truly are the end days.
