Real life story. I ask the missus to pick me four beers up on her errands this evening. A short while after she returned, I visited the kitchen to retrieve one quarter of my refrigerating bounty.
The beers are there, stood proudly on their own shelf, unchallenged, but something is awry.
Iām just about to depart the kitchen silently when I suddenly turn on my heels. and say āI know what youāve done, Gingeā.
I know Iām right immediately. The sight of a pale red headed woman going all red through blushing is not one you forget, and not one that happens for no reason.
Recovering somewhat, she says āWhat?ā.
āYou have bought more beers than are advertised in the fridge, and have concealed the rest of them from meā.
āThey were on offer. Ten for Ā£7.50.ā, she protests, adding ābesides, if they were in the fridge, youād just drink all of them. On a school nightā.
This is not true. Iād probably only have done eight or nine 
The surplus beers remain concealed.
