I put down the phone to Nix who I shared an epiphany with in Soho and am in an off-licence about 500 yards from home.
And what...?! Phwaor!
It's the undercover copper who was investigating the drive-by hammer assault and mugging last weekend. He is also in the store, like me, buying a 2 litre bottle of Evian plus a Red Bull.
I think to myself, "God, you really are fit in an-undercover-copper-with-an-amazing-body-in-tight-jeans-kind-of-Michael Douglas-in-Basic Instinct way.
Dark hair. Dark blue Nike trainers. A sturdy brown belt. Confidence.
He has on a Met Police polo shirt that is open at the top. You can see the two blocks that make up the top of his pecs, leading to the middle groove which extends down beyond the white buttons.
I make a note to myself to look up what I wrote about him on Twitter when he appeared at the crime scene last weekend.
A block. With a chest. And forearms. Ohmygod. I am looking at his neck. That alone is enough.
He notices me standing next to him to pay. He speaks, he says. "Oh, hey..."
And I don't know what words come out my mouth but we establish that the mugging is (not allowed to be written about), he's working overnight in cop shop up the road.
He's come early to get some paperwork done. It's going to be a long night. Yeah, loads of filling out forms. It's boring but has to be done.
I think the words I say are "well, yeah with my housemate as you know - but she's in Bali at the moment."
On or around 22:37
"Yeah, hold on while I get some from the downstairs loo..."
I don't really have much else to add.