There's nothing
more upsetting than tipping away a cup of tea you haven't had time to
drink, except, perhaps, for recent bereavement.
Those still-steaming mugs hold so much promise that is destined to be unfulfilled; like a sexually frustrated eunuch.
The discarded-tea-statistics certainly make you pause for thought. Every time I click my fingers, another cup is wasted - and I click my fingers a heck of a lot. I'm a very rhythmic person.
There's only one thing more depressing than an unwanted cuppa: this Cumberland sausage, that I spotted in Stevenage this morning.
Those still-steaming mugs hold so much promise that is destined to be unfulfilled; like a sexually frustrated eunuch.
The discarded-tea-statistics certainly make you pause for thought. Every time I click my fingers, another cup is wasted - and I click my fingers a heck of a lot. I'm a very rhythmic person.
There's only one thing more depressing than an unwanted cuppa: this Cumberland sausage, that I spotted in Stevenage this morning.
Perhaps it was the geographical distance from Cumbria that made it so sub-standard. It probably left the North East of England tightly packed; like a coiled, piggy spring.
At least we know that by the time you read this, the curly meat product above will have ceased to exist, which is some small consolation.
It looks like the savoury equivalent to a cinnamon swirl.
At least we know that by the time you read this, the curly meat product above will have ceased to exist, which is some small consolation.
It looks like the savoury equivalent to a cinnamon swirl.