Deli-rium: Psychedelic Coleslaw, Sandwich Telepathy and Poltergeists

There's something spooky going on in the deli. It's probably all the super-special organic rays eminating from the quince chutney and organic granola. Maybe it's the heady, cheesy fumes from the 18 month matured cheddar. Perhaps we're all just high on ginseng and lemongrass tea.

Anyway, we made some psychedelic coleslaw and that's probably what started it. Purple cabbage, spring onions and grated carrot, with real mayonnaise. A special experimental blend. It looked like a tie-dye acid trip - violet and mauve, emerald and lime, highlighted by flame-bright orange. We were very excited about it. It was the most beautiful coleslaw in the whole world. And it tasted sublime with delicate flakes of smoked trout and fresh cucumber slices. Afterwards we were high as kites, high as flying trout in a violet sky. High on our shredded rainbow of vegetable magnificence.

We've been trying to guess what sandwiches will sell the best. Every day it's different. But it's different by such a vast margin that it can't be coincidence. It sounds crazy. But why would five people in one day order Sussex feta, pesto and tomato on granary? And why, the next day, would we sell six pastrami and gherkin but not a single ham and cheese? The customers who order them, for the most part, don't know each other, or even interact. Maybe we're just so bored of making sandwiches that we make these links just to amuse ourselves. But we like to say that actually, it's us, sending out subconscious telepathic sandwich waves to the punters. We are the Derren Browns of the delicatessen world. We tried to telepathically influence the customers today. I was screaming SMOKED VENISON WITH BLACKCURRANT AND ROSEMARY DRESSING ON WHITE NO TOMATOES over and over in my mind, but they just kept on choosing goat's cheese and caramelised onion marmalade on granary. We'll have to experiment further.

Then there's the till. It's been acting pretty strangely for a while. We think it's haunted. If you press the No Sale button, the drawer pops open. Then you just push it closed again. Recently that doesn't suffice. It pops open again, and again, and again, entirely of its own accord, unwarranted. A cash register poltergeist, if ever I saw one. It catches me off guard sometimes and makes me scream in front of customers. It goes something like this:

"What can we do for you sir?" (SMOKED VENISON ON GRANARY! SMOKED VENISON ON GRANARY!)
"Goat's cheese and caramelised onion marmalade on granary please"
"Oh." (DAMN!) "Would you like coleslaw with that?"
"No thank you."
"Oh." (BUT IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL!) "That will be three pounds twenty-AAAAAAAA- oh sorry, the till does that sometimes. Three pounds twenty-five. Thanks".

I'm going crazy.
Maybe it's the trout.