I've just been reliably informed that the woman I was heckling in the chipper last night was not a journalist at all, but worked in PR. Booze is a wonderful thing. I somehow got it into my head that she was a column jockey, and persisted in asking her "what newspaper do you write for?" a number of times, and got narked when she failed to reply positively. However, matters were smoothed over when she allowed me to dip my chips in her garlic mayonnaise.