This incident lead to a comedy tour and DVD for popular comedian, Richard Herring. All well and good, but something similar happened to me the other day in top prole-food shop, Iceland, and it’s a very odd thing to experience.

I don’t mind it when it’s the checkout folk commenting on my purchases though; I’ve been in monotonous jobs where any off-script conversation is a key to a less miserable day - even now, not working in a shop I still have the same issue. So I have no problem with a staff member talking to me about what I’m buying. Except if it’s a special cream; I don’t really want someone in a pharmacy talking to me about how their pills cleared up a rash better than the cream. Which I didn’t have.

The cream or a rash. So shut up.

So I’ve established that I have no issues talking about my normal, everyday purchases with the staff. But I did get the same comment as Mr Herring did, “Someone likes yogurt”, except that this came from a random bloke in the queue in front of me.

I don’t like strange people striking up conversations; a quick comment is fine in itself, but this gentleman did want to talk. And I mean really talk; he offered me recommendations of great yogurts he’d eaten in the past, the prices he’d been charged for them, everything bar whether he licks the lid of the pot, or spoons the yogurt off it back into the pot.

Frankly, I was a little uncomfortable. As I mentioned, he was in front of me in the queue, and this meant that I could not turn around to avoid a conversation that my monosyllabic replies seemed to clearly indicate I wanted no part of.

Technically, yes, I could have turned around and looked the other way, but then I would look peculiar to the person behind me. They’d be wondering why I had suddenly decided to stare at them and they would be right to do so. And they might follow that thought through and from there they would think I might be readying myself to talk to them about their purchases. They wouldn’t be sure if I was a bit peculiar like the man in front of me, or if discussing your purchases with the person in front of you was a new policy that Iceland staff were encouraging in some way.

I think even if I had turned around this peculiar man would have carried on, perhaps tapping me on my shoulder now and then to make sure I was paying attention to him.

Yes, it was a lot of yogurts. Twelve of them. Twelve Muller Fruit Corners. But only in the form of two six packs for four pounds, which is a great deal.

It was odd, and it was making me laugh, because I’d read the events that Mr Herring had documented. His version was funny though.