Bland.

[Sir C]

Caviar and sausages, innit.

Mind you, these aren’t even decent sausages. These are those frozen, skinless Richmond abominations that are weirdly pink and don’t really taste of meat.

Cor, now I fancy a sausage. Even a Richmond one. Nestling there on a plate like a kitten in bed with its siblings, the two fried eggs, the 6 rashers of streaky bacon and the black pudding.