So anyway you come out of work and you’re walking down the street and you think Fuck it, I’m gonna grab a cheeky bag of crisps, and you go into the shop and pick up a packet of smoky bacon because it’s been a while and to be honest you’re not up for the whole King-Tayto-King-Tayto dance you have to do every single time you go for cheese and onion, and so you pay up and you leave and you’re walking along and yeah, you made the right choice, these are reet tasty. Skip ahead a couple of minutes and you’re nearly finished and there’s a bin just up there, how handy… only you’ve misjudged how close to the bottom you were, so you end up standing beside the bin munching away like a div, and after a while the people who saw you leave the shop have passed by and now for all anyone knows you’ve been there the whole time, and you’re stuffing the last bits into your gob and getting more and more hassled and you want to shout at everyone how of COURSE you didn’t just WALK UP TO A BIN and fish around for a bag of CRISPS, you’re wearing a SUIT for god’s sake.
So here you are… approaching your 26th birthday, standing beside a bin, tie askew, jacket missing, wild-eyed, spraying wet specks of salty potato at passers-by. Pay close attention, children: dreams do come true.

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