According to the papers, chocolate can help protect women's hearts. Ignoring the suggestion that PR women don't have hearts, we pop round the corner to our local convenience store (which is uncannily like a real convenience) to load up with all the Prestat, Charbonnel et Walker and Rococo that Mr P has in stock.
A bit ambitious perhaps, given this is the kind of shop where the chiller cabinets only get turned on at lunchtime to make the sandwiches seem fresh. We have to settle for the Kraft Dairy Milk and some flood-damaged Yorkies, but chocolate is chocolate, we shriek, and its heart health properties cannot be denied.
Back at the office and about to tuck in when Anastasia (Nervosa, who doesn't like to see other people eating for pleasure) reads out the second half of the article: 19g twice a week is the prescription. But 19g? That's about half a square! Pa-bloody-thetic. So we eat the lot anyway and trust to the next PR-spun medical journal to reveal the benefits of a 500g a day serving.
Karoline (with a K) is clearly in need of chocolate therapy. She keeps going on about how Clive Dunn and Nick Hornby are raking in £17m a year just for reinventing Green Shield stamps as Clubcard. According to her, it's not a proper loyalty scheme unless your mouth tastes of gum afterwards. And she should know.
Talking of lunatics, pleased to see the Dementia Delay Diet trailed in the inkies last weekend. There are several 'senior' (over 35 - ancient!) people here who could benefit. Apparently the advice is to "eat like a Meditteranean". I assume that means with your hands.
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