Once, as a favour because I had the tools*, I stuck a shiny steel pole up* in a wardrobe for a lady. She made me a cup of tea, we had some marmite crisps* and nibbled on some marmite chocolate*.
I played with her cat*, who was a friendly kitten*.
Then she (the lady, not the cat) started talking about horses, then asked if I'd heard about pegging, quite out of the blue*. She then said that she had quite considerable quantity of ginger root* that could be put in the icebox*, left knobbly* or peeled smooth*, though that would be quite bracing and, erm, zingy.
I made my excuses and left. Well, got a lift to the station, being v careful not to sit on the handbrake* in the car.
(* not euphemisms)