What beanz meanz

Two disparate things happened to me today that I now believe to be conjoined.
First, at 10.30 a.m, in the lovely cathedral city of Ely, Mrs Barker invited me into a dimly-lit room, sat me down and looked into my eyes. At one bizarre moment, she asked me to read a line of letters that spelled out the name of a suburb in Peking, or so it seemed to me. But I didn't demur, I just allowed her to have her way with me, in the way that we allow opticians to do. She decided in the end that my sight had not deteriorated, although I was having a little more difficulty with close reading of small print than heretofore, hitherto and hencewithal.
Second, this evening I ate a concoction, pre-prepared by ole Uncle Sam Tesco, called "Bean Chilli and Wholegrain Rice". How DOES he think up these enticing names? After eating it, I idly read the small print on the back of the wrapper. My god! It's outrageous! Every ingredient is totally natural, healthy, veggie-approved, life-affirming.
If only I had persuaded Mrs Barker to prescribe stronger reading glasses, I could have avoided this dish and gone for my normal meaty, MSG-rich, e-number-laden crap, the stuff that my digestive system has grown used to.
It's my own fault. Put a pretty woman in front of me, and I just go to pieces.