Estate agents are even more loathed for their opportunism than PR people and, true to form, my local Hampstead greasy oik was quick off the mark this week, presenting his dismal collection of overpriced shoe boxes as “in an affluent Tesco catchment”. Yes, Tesco-envy is about to sweep the land faster than an Ocado finance director leaping from a speeding delivery van.

Apparently you can instantly tell whether you’re a nob or a knob by what’s on promotion. Chocolate-dipped ginger biccies and you properly belong in leafy North London. You may even work in PR. Lidl-alike baked bean discounts and you’re probably somewhere in the real North, shopping between visits to the slag heap to pick coal.

This divide between so-called real people and foodie PRs was only underlined by Alex James with his praise for Maccy D’s, KFC and Greggs. You could hear middle-class heads exploding all over Hampstead. My BF Miranda was apoplectic. “I can’t believe he would betray the nation’s health so!” she wailed like a bad line from Downton Abbey. And she works on the Greggs account.

I think he just did it to annoy Sun readers. I mean, who wants to eat somewhere endorsed by an ex-rock and roll cheesemonger? None of our fast food clients would let him near their factories, not without three weeks of industrial deep cleaning.

Meanwhile, like the universe (thanks dishy Brian), Asda is expanding. But surely if Walmart destroys 1.4 jobs for every one created (as some US academics suggest) it’s about to increase our net unemployment by 2,000? Truly, we live in spin-tastic times.

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