It's like a lover's birthday. It comes round every year, but always takes you slightly by surprise. So all hail the print media's Mr Sunshine, Sean Poulter, king of the consumer scare, for putting Frankenfish back on the nation's plate.
I didn't read the rest of the story (does anyone?) but it's a safe bet that we're all going to die a horrible and protracted death as a result.
Meanwhile, I see The Grocer is doing its bit to save us by embracing everything green once again. I'm happy to make the necessary lifestyle choices to help. Thus I have been buying lots of Sonya Kashmiri eco-friendly handbags at London Fashion Week. 100% genuine eco-credentials: vegetable-tanned leather and organic cotton linings apparently. So that's got to be good for the planet hasn't it? Spending money on luxury goods is one of the side effects of PMT, researchers 'revealed' this week. (Yes, boys, there's a pattern to those credit card bills). Which means of course that it's completely beyond our control and criticism if we're found running amok down Bond Street. A blow scored for the sisterhood.
Indeed, it's a bit like a nunnery here (in one respect only) with 25 women working in perfect sync. Which means that one week out of four things can get even more TENSE. PR women aren't like that all the time, honest. It's just a ruse to stop the clients getting lippy.
So deep joy then to see Prozac hailed as a PMT cure-all this week. Whether it will cut through the effects of the fizz and our other 'performance enhancers' is open to debate. In fact, given Karoline (with a K)'s general behaviour, I fear that only rhino-strength ketamine is likely to have a calming effect.
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