Mr Chubby.
His mystic ice cream sometimes he sells and sometimes he gives away for free, according to criteria that nobody has hitherto managed to decode. He runs his wares out of the boot of a battered Ford Fiesta (really) which he parks, erratically and at frequently impossibly inconvenient times, near selected tube stations between Bethnal Green and Theydon Bois. And that’s another enigma: how the hell does he manage to store 73 different flavours of ice cream in the boot of a small car? Me, I think is best not to enquire too closely. I’ve enough trouble trying to second guess his next parking spot as it is. But I can assure you, the effort of blind-chasing him and his damned gelato all over East London/Essex is well worth it.