One of the happiest things in the world is to put your knife through a nicely poached egg and watch the gooey orangey yolk burst and run all over your toast. It doesn’t matter so much if the poached eggs aren’t entirely neat (mine never are) – all that really matters is that moment of cutting through it. And then messily enjoying it.
Conversely, one of the saddest things in the world is cutting through what you think is nicely poached egg and ending up with heavy, almost solid yolk. I’ve gotten that in (bad) cafes before, and it’s rather devastating. Almost as sad as well-done steak when you ordered it medium-rare. A food tragedy!
P.S. I recommend buying free-range eggs. Go on, it doesn’t cost that much more, even a cheapo like me can afford it.