But when I bumped into our top supermarket Scouser in a Bishopsgate greasy spoon he was in a pig of a stink. The Wack wizard and his henchman "Knuckles" Higginson had just held a council of war at the semi-nationalised toxic debt magnet RBS and were in no mood for playful banter of the "I see you got that Thai on the Rack" variety. They cared even less for my reminiscences of the halcyon days of double-digit LFL growth, or my questions as to whether Flesh & Queasy was likely to break even during President Palin's tenure.
Then it occurred to me that I was being a bit insensitive (it does happen, gentle readers). Maybe Tel and Higgy were plotting a bid to buy Woolies - after all, it's cheaper even than one of those acrylic jumpers from Rosey's 20%-off boot sales. Or maybe not. I know Tel has gone all retro with his discounter brands, but even he wouldn't want to go back to pick 'n' mix, especially knowing as he does how much I unpicked (and unmixed) the retail and property arms in a cute leasing scam back in the days of Fisherking - a deal that proved it wasn't just the hoodies who like to strip assets from Woolies.
I certainly won't bemoan the passing of Pilferers plc, nor the Austin Allegro, the three-day week, New Labour or other failed British 'institutions'. Not so the meeja, however, which has been full of C-listers bemoaning the "death of the high street". Maybe they should realise that as long as the pony-tails of Islington continue to shop at fake farmers' markets and the unwashed are addicted to hypers and Aldi, all the whining for Woolies won't amount to a fart in Farringdon.