A funny anecdote about vending machines. When I was a student at Durham in 1972, one of my drinking buddies (now a respected priest) had a car, which was unusual in those days. One evening, after chucking-out time at 10.30 p.m., he announced that he was was starving and did I fancy anything to eat. All the chippies and takeaways were shut by this time, so he suggested we drive up the A1(M) halfway between Durham and Newcastle to a motorway service station, where we duly wolfed down some of the most disgusting sausage, chips and peas I have ever tasted. After consuming this my mate announced that he was out of ciggies and would go to the corridor where all the vending machines were. At the time 20 cigs cost around 30p, so he inserted a 50p piece (which could buy you 5 pints if you shopped around), expecting 20p change. He came back almost in tears; no change and instead of 20 cigs a packet of multi-coloured condoms. I have not made this up.