The mayonnaise was hurled in the same bag as the ibuprofen, crushing the weak and vulnerable brioche buns in the process. The bread was bullied in to the bottom of another bag, resulting in the loaf being squashed and killed in action by the carrots and cheaply priced duck breasts. And the milk was required to share a bag with mouthwash and garden bin-liners. Complete mayhem.
I find male company stiflingly awkward and unpleasant. I think beer tastes of coins, my knowledge of football is sketchy, and banter gives me acid reflux. Over the last couple of years, though, I've had to spend more and more time in the company of men because as my kids have picked up friends, just like colds, lice and conjunctivitis, whatever they get so do I.