And pork pies. And scotch eggs. Ooh, and those little mini Yorkshire puddings with a bit of beef and horseradish on.
I love a buffet, me.
My word, I am reminded of the time I was discovered by the glw, naked on a hotel bed, drinking scotch whisky from a toothmug and eating Co-Op cocktail sausages whilst watchign Gareth Malone coach a choir of disableds, weeping uncontrollably.