Somehow or other I've managed to go through nigh on 48 years of life on planet earth without tasting a vol-au-vent - until tonight. Hitherto they were middle-class party food on TV sit-coms; a cultural fantasy which was forbidden to an ill-educated working class Geordie oik like myself. Now they are a refrigerated reality and a measure of what must be considered as a serious breach of the class-divide by way of unwitting embourgeoisment - I didn't even know what it was until it was scoffed. Being in polite company, fingers-down-the-throat was not an option; also, I didn't wish to regurgitate the pie, chips, peas, gravy, bread (followed by treacle pudding & custard) I enjoyed with Spleen earlier.

So here I am - violated by a vol-au-vent and feeling decidedly wierd...