2006-09-20 - 12:50 p.m.

Circumstances dictated that I found myself in McDonalds at some unbearable hour, clutching a token that entitled me to buy one McMuffin and get another one absolutely free(!). Usually I loathe eggs in any shape or form. They are second only to the slimy fungus in my league of culinary horrors. Credit to Mickey Ds, though, they massacre the egg to such an extent that it doesn't taste remotely like itself anymore, so committed ovum-phobes like myself can scarf it down without retching. It's the yolk that freaks me out - the colour! the stench! - but thankfully McFucks's yellow isn't runny. How can anyone hear the word "runny" and not associate it with diarrhea? Anyway, I'm Hank Marvin and ready to get my arteries nice and clogged with some tasty breakfast product.

So, I give my order to the child behind the counter, repeat it, and hand over my little coupon with as much masculinity as I can muster. Judging by the panicked expression and slack posture, I'm gussing that this particular minion is not just the youngest, but is also the newest member of the McChain Gang. Literacy apparently not being a requirement for McDonalds workers, she asks her superior officer if the voucher entitles me to a hash brown and/or drink. Having spent several nanoseconds studying the finer points and narrative twists of the voucher, I already knew that I was entitled to 2 McMuffins and nowt else. Bizarrely, I then hear Smithers tell her that, yes, I get a drink AND a hashbrown - score!

My jubilation is short lived, however, as it dawns on me that I'll probably get charged more for these extras. OK, so it's more food, but I'm rather looking forward to paying a nice round sum of £2. Two pounds, two McMuffins - simple, neat, I like it. Although my stomach is gurgling like a baby in a plughole at being neglected for so long, I didn't really like the idea of my incredibly simple order being screwed up and then having to pay for it. I'm psyching myself up for a confrontation. However, then I notice that even by the ironic standards of a "fast" food gastropod she was taking a long time to pour my coffee. Now it strikes me - she's pouring a second cup. My second cup. I'm getting two meals! Surely, surely, this madness can't continue for much longer. Am I really getting two McMuffin meals for £2? You bet your boots I am! All of a sudden I'm getting the shoplifter's buzz.

Not once did occur to this dear, sweet little lass that I was getting rather too much food for such a paltry sum. It was like being in America. Well, I wolfed it down - Bacon and Egg McMuffin beats Sausage by the way - before prying off the plastic lid of my beverage coffin. I had to allow myself a chuckle when I saw the contents. I had asked for black coffee. My two slugs both had cow-juice in them. She even managed to screw that up. Perfect. I hastily downed one and took the other one to drink outside at one of the grubby tables they’ve set up on the pavement. Hey, it’s just like Europe! I felt like a confidence trickster, albeit one with a distended gut. Then I saw the transvestite who I had seen once before but thought I was hallucinating. He’s an elderly man from the waist up, but with an underskirt and tights on his lower half.

Best day of my life.

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