“Somewhere in Old England somebody thought jam with turkey was a good idea,” Adrian thought to himself as a medium-sized blob of sticky red substrate slipped onto his suit trousers from the soft turkey and salad bap he was eating, a roll which he’d found ‘going spare’ on a platter in the office kitchen after an executive function attended by several government officers each of whom had also encountered the caterer’s jammy revenge on their soul-less grey suits, but telling nobody of their sticky mishaps lest they were exposed as lacking the requisite social skills to successfully eat gourmet bready luncheon rolls from paper plates while standing at a vendor event, a light meal which could feasibly be construed as receiving gifts to influence their already hampered decision making capacities, impartial or otherwise.
