Green smoke coming from the kitchen

A crisis hits the bachelor pad kitchen as your humble author attempts a red-hot chili con carne, but runs - figuratively - into a brick wall.

"GAAAAAH!"

I have, it appears, forgotten to buy the tinned tomatoes. Indeed, the only tomato-based product I have is a gallon drum of Iceland own-brand ketchup, which may or may not have been wafted within six feet of a tomato plant on its way from factory to shop.

"Why not," says my EXCELLENT flatmate, pointing out a half empty jar in the fridge, "use that? It's just tomatoes, after all."

It is a jar of Dolmio.

"Are you MAD?!" I fume, "This can only end in one thing: BLASPHEMY."

And in goes the BLASPHEMY SAUCE, and I have invented CHILI CON DOLMIO.

And hours later, as my room is filled with an explosive mixture of gasses, I mull: Is it wrong to fancy the freakishly thicked-lipped but oh-so-curvy Sophia from the Dolmio adverts?

Answer: Yes. Yes it is.