Story time. (because I've not got one for the Friday on-call thing)
Decade ago, I'm at Manchester airport awaiting my evening flight back to Gatwick. It's delayed so I wander round to the 'International' terminal in search of some food. Because I'm a soft shandy drinking southerner, I have a fundamental aversion to gravy with everything, which limited my choices somewhat.
Eventually I arrive at what would best be described as a Tortilla wrap bar. No gravy in sight. I scan the menu on the wall behind the counter, discounting the various options until I arrive at Pepperoni Pizza. This seems like a sensible choice - enough carbs and saturated fat to tide me over until I get home.
My request for said pizza results in a flourish from the guy behind the counter, as he whirls the worlds biggest tortilla bread around. He throws the tortilla on the counter, grabs a slab of pizza, and plonks it in the middle of the pitta. I call a halt to the proceedings;
"Woah, stop - what are you doing?"
"A pepperoni pizza tortilla wrap, it's what you asked for!"
"Erm, can I just have the pizza?"
"This is a tortilla wrap bar... I have to wrap it in a tortilla... of course, you could always unwrap it once you've bought it"
I turned down this culinary adventure and went to find anything else. I remained bemused by the concept of a pizza wrapped in tortilla, wondering if it was truly a north-south thing going on here. So I ring my good pal, a Boltonite through and through, and the most northern person I know.
"Hello mate, need your help... I'm gonna say four words, and I want your immediate, instinctive reaction"
"Pepperoni. Pizza. Tortilla. Wrap."
"....what? together? a pizza wrapped in tortilla?"
"That is utter... GENIUS!"
Chips and gravy it was then (and I threw the gravy away)