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Now I'm posh

Now I'm posh

Until recently, I could safely say that I wasn’t that posh – aside from when my bizarrely-posh telephone voice makes an appearance – according to the Daily Mail, because I only ticked two of their ten boxes, to whit:

– shopping at Waitrose (and that’s only because it’s the nearest food supermarket to me)
– I have been known to eat hummus. But only when it’s served to me – I’ve never taken any home to eat.

However, thanks to my alcoholic neighbour – who managed to leave a bottle of Prosecco out in the back garden the other night – I now know what Prosecco is. Of course, I took one tiny sip and my head has been hurting since.

It’s interesting to note that the Daily Mail, despite being the sort of newspaper that still laments the loss of Lady Diana and carries the sort of headlines that are perfect who worry about such things as immigration, cancer, and the lack of morals doesn’t regard itself as being the paper of choice for posh people, or even wannabe-posh people.

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