Every publican's stew is nicked from someone's mother, and I'll not pretend otherwise. But there's a world between learning a recipe and this: photographing my kitchen, copying my supplier list, timing my regulars' orders for thirty years — then opening an identical pub next door that never has to buy a single carrot, and wondering aloud why I'm cross. "He learned from the master" is doing a great deal of quiet lifting when what happened is the master got inventoried. The word "learning" has a theft riding on its back, and it's hoping you won't check under the coat.