What about junk mail?” says Nick. Are you angry about junk mail? If someone has the temerity to push an A5 piece of paper through your letterbox, offering you a balti meal deal in spite of your pithy homemade “NO HAWKERS. NO CIRCULARS” sign, could you roll with that? Or do you literally feel the serotonin levels in your brain deplete as you drop to your knees wailing, “Why? Why God? Why did you make me British? If only life’s lottery had spat me out in Mogadishu with AK-47 crossfire whistling past my lugholes; instead I’m forced to live here in Broken Britain (St Albans) enduring this misery of ‘slightly late Ocado orders’, ‘haphazard grammar in public signage’, and long nights trolling the local gazette’s letters page about ‘chaotic council wheelie bin collection timetables’.