Every time I go into Starbucks (I know, I know, I shouldn't....) I get the needle when I see that ridiculous book The My Sister's a Barista for sale at the counter.
First off, the sub-title - How They Made Starbucks a Home From Home - makes me feel ill. I mean, it's not the third space, it's a coffee shop, for crying out loud. I'm not spiritually changed from going there, I'm just having a sitdown and a cuppacoffee.
But the thing that gets me is that I always think I should write a competing book, for sale at my very own bus shelter, entitle My Brother's A Barrister.
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