To Waitrose for essential supplies of cake and biscuits.
Alas, my way to the tasty, tasty cookies was blocked by a little old lady trying to reach the premium brands made from Soylent Green and plutonium ore on the top shelf, and failing miserably.
And then, like a veritable biscuity waterfall, she knocks a deluge of packets from the shelf, all destined for the floor, closely followed by a skip round the back.
I lunge forward. Left hand. Right hand. Snatching the plummeting packets from the air, handing them off into my trolley before going back for more.
I am a blur, dressed head-to-toe in black, and not one of those biscuits hits the floor. NOT ONE.
"Woah," said a passing dude, "Ninja skills!"
And he is correct. My Ninja skills are indeed l33t. And there lies the problem: My l33t Ninja skills have been witnessed by members of the public, who may identify me as a Ninja.
Seconds later, the problem is resolved.
Then, I bought myself a nice packet of - oh-ho! - Ninja Biscuits and went home.