‘Snob!’ That was the accusation ejaculated at me. Me Matt, man of the people, defender of the working man. And why was this nasty remark so viciously lobbed at my fantastic face? A couple of times a week, one of the women from the office canteen will wheel around a trolley full of different snack based opportunities to purchase at your desk. I fancied a cup of tea so bought one. That’s the kind of snap decision people like me feel entirely comfortable with making. Two minutes later, a colleague who I rarely talk too, wandered past my desk with a face so incredulous, I took a picture of it and wrote the word incredulous on the back of it. ‘You paid money for that tea?’ he asked looking directly at the tea I paid money for ‘Yeah’ I said answering his question with the word ‘yeah’. ‘You can get tea free from the machine!’ ‘I don’t like the tea from the machine.’ ‘Snob!’ he said disgustedly walking off like a pocket-sized Liam Gallagher. That’s right I’m so fucking upper-class, I live in
Contains mild peril