The plan was, buy a whole bunch of sausages as a present for a friend’s birthday, so they could be served at her party. And with Johnny at Beedham’s making the bangers, I knew they’d be quality: his meats grace the plates of Nottingham’s only Michelin-starred restaurant, whose chef Sat Bains is slowly becoming a bit of celebrity. And thanks to Sat, Johnny too has been getting his share of media appearances and plaudits.

So, there I am with a bag of seven varieties of sausage, and my urge to consume is not satisfied. I’ve bought a gift for someone else: surely it’s now my right to treat myself. Which is how I come to find myself at Zavvi, which used to be Virgin and I can’t help pronouncing ‘chavvy’, looking through the DVDs for anything where value and interest intersect.

I try to be discriminating with my DVDs, having reached a point where I’m weeding the chaff out of my collection to leave room for more. So the box set of the complete Cold Feet is out, even at a bargain price: I like the show alright, but well enough to have it as a feature in the room’s decor? A bumper set of Prime Suspect fails to make the cut, partly for similar reasons of bulk. Also, I recall some of the middle-period shows being patchy. Besides, Lynda la Plante scares me, and I’m not sure I could cope with her peering at me from the DVD extras. And how many serial killer stories set in wet northern towns can I stomach anyway? If I am going in that direction, Cracker is the more attractive option…but not attractively priced.

How about West Wing? The wheelie bin-sized complete set is a snip at £50, but frankly the more attention I pay to the antics of pretend politicians, the less I get to attend to America’s actual president, whose story interests me more. All the Monty Python ever is available for a reasonable price too, but I have a feeling I’ve had enough of Cleese, Idle, et al in my life.

Onto the movies then, since there don’t seem to be any tv collections taking my fancy. Besides, by this point my attention is captured by the cute Chinese goth-lite store assistant, and my legs as well as my eyes follow her into the film section. Hmm, what have we here? All the Matrix films bundled together when I already have the only decent one of the trilogy? I think not.

What about those actor-themed sets, with three films by Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, or whoever? The trick with these is that you get two films you really do want, and a third you’ve never even heard of, from a point before their career got off the ground and they were working with, say, Roger Corman. Or they’re from the latter part of their career, either proving they haven’t still got it, or making one last stab at credibility in an attempt to emulate what happened to Bruce Willis when Tarantino got hold of him…only with less successful results.

There is of course the option to buy nothing. But at this point I’ve been there for a while, and feel some kind of exchange is owed thanks to the enjoyment I’ve got from the Chinese woman. And it’s at that moment that my eyes rest on a Clint Eastwood trilogy, one that breaks the rule alluded to above by sticking resolutely to his Sergio Leone period. Fistful of Dollars, For A Few Dollars More, and The Good, The Bad and The Ugly for £10. And the box says there are oodles of extras, not least the best sound on these films ever, which I’m sure I won’t appreciate as much as the poor sod who polished it to get that accolade.

At the tram stop on the way home, the woman next to me drops her bag with a glassy clunk. She picks it up again and shows me: ‘Cornflakes and wine’. I nod, like this is just the sort of combination that people buy all the time. Which of course it is. I raise my bag: ‘Sausages and spaghetti.’