Years ago, during my practice trainee period, my colleagues and I would patronise the Queen Street outlet and order takeaways to bring back to our air-conditioned office. Without fail, my female colleague would take the teensiest portion of chilli and still have to force back tears, whilst another colleague of mine, one of those tanned and laddish "I love soccer" type of guys (he eventually set up @alexandrafootballacademy with like-minded ball enthusiasts) would whack the chilli with grand machismo... and sweat through his white shirt while constantly drying himself with three-ply tissue.

Ah, memories (of the chilli, not the sweat-steeped tissue).