"I'll have some of that!" I said.

But what was it? Yoga? Motivational speaker? Brothel? Nitrous Oxide shop? The Seventh Inn of Enlightenment? Is it where Mr Tickle lives?

I must admit my flat warm pint of ale did little to lift my spirits and a glance at the panini machine encrusted with aged layers of melted cheese dashed what inner karma there was.