The young lady lectured me relentlessly in a cut-crystal accent which I deduced hailed from Hampshire. Actually, I’m lying. I don’t know the difference between one posh English accent and another. They all sound like Tory frontbench service cutters to me.
Whilst she delivered her sermon about the spoliation of the planet, she was handing me a shiny, sticky, multi-coloured flyer. One of many. Enough to choke a polar bear.