Hugo shuffles over, the scuff, scuff, scuff of his slippers coming to a stop next to Corrie. "I don't see anything about 'too much'," he observes. "Just that you talk at all." Hugo leans forward to study the poster some more, hands idly tying the strings of his school hoodie into a loose and lazy knot.

"Still think you can be offended if you like, though." He turns back to her. "Made of 'normal meat?' Not 'extraordinary meat?' Not even 'above average?' Just 'normal.'" He shakes his head with feigned pity. "Sorry, mate."