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Mystery shopping. Is there no end to the madness?

Regular readers may remember my post last year about an old friend (anonymous for obvious reasons), who's a mystery shopper. His job is to check on the quality of pies on sale at Craven Cottage, home of Fulham FC. The club slip him a fiver and he heads off to a pre-selected pasty vendor. Nice work, I thought. Mystery shopping surely doesn't get any more bizarre.

How wrong I was.

I picked up the spring newsletter today of my local Primary Care Trust and the front-page story is Young mystery shoppers target sexual health services. We learn that youngsters across the borough of Richmond in south-west London have been specially trained to go and ask for advice on sexual matters. They then report back on their findings. A council official congratulates them for the "skills" they've developed. Skills that will no doubt come in highly useful in the future. When they... er... need to go and ask for advice on sexual matters.

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