As my wife Kathleen can attest, it’s never a good idea to have a conversation with me first thing in the morning, before I’ve had my coffee. There’s a good chance that the only response that you’ll get will either be a grunt or a glassy-eyed stare. I love my morning coffee, it gets the day off to the right kind of start, it gets my neurons upright, pointed (roughly) all the right way and ready for anything. Sort of.

Do I love my coffee enough, however, to drink coffee that’s been excreted by a civet?

No. Fat flipping chance.

Before anyone asks me what the hell I’m talking about and if I’ve been drinking something a month or twelve past its sell-by date, read this – http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/features/the-yuck-factor-how-disgusting-became-the-last-word-in-luxury-2197830.html

I pause to allow you all to reboot your brains.

All I can say is this – there’s a total mug born every minute.