Who ate all the pies?

By the time I came out of the dentist's, I was really hungry. I'd deliberately not eaten before going and the Nurse Counsellor hadn't helped by rattling on about how much she'd just enjoyed her ham sandwich for lunch. So imagine my delight when I got on the Metro and found myself opposite a man with a big bag marked Greggs. He proceeded to wolf down a huge pasty, crumbs falling all over the place. Then out came a French bread pizza. More crumbs. More gusto. Then another French bread pizza. There was no slackening of pace, no thoughts of "Isn't this enough?" crossed his face. Only more crumbs. At last he finished the second pizza....only to pull out a Kingsize Chunky Kit Kat and ram it in in huge pieces. No, no, I thought there can't be anything left in the bag. But there was: a double Twix.

Far from feeling hungry, by now I was mostly nauseous. And the bloke was such a skinny little dude. Where did it all go? Maybe to feed a colossal intellect? In a mood of crumb-bedecked contentment, he pulled out the last thing in his bag. It was a pristine pad of Basildon Bond notepaper. For the rest of the journey he sat and read, with evident interest, the front cover of his notepaper.