When the suits have suity meetings, they are usually supplied with free (free!) sandwiches, presumably as fuel for the ensuing protracted (and proactive) meetings of endless arse-scratching tedium. When they don't finish all the free (free!) sandwiches, we lowly plebs are granted the privilege of rummaging through the brown-breaded slightly-stale executive detritus, and consuming what we find therein.
As a result, I now have a free (free!) lunch, which cost me no money, and which consists of three sandwiches. One of the sandwiches is definitely tuna and cucumber; of this much there is no doubt, as it can be smelt from several desks away. (In an open-plan office, there's no such thing as "my" egg sandwich.) The other two appear to be something which is almost, but not entirely, unlike mushroom. It tastes slightly of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, and has the approximate consistency of sludgy brains.
The cheapest sandwich I could have bought from the company sandwich vendor would have been about £1.80 for something appetising like prawn and grape. By consuming these so-called sandwiches, these disgraces to the good Earl's name, I have therefore saved enough money to buy myself three cans of coke.
Dear god, it's not tuna after all. At least... I don't know what it is, but the texture is mush, the taste is somewhere between ripe cheese and crab paste, and it still smells of tuna.
I have saved £1.80 ... but at what cost?