Saturday, 18 February 2017

"Feed Me, Seymour."


Two foods I have no cut-off point with are biscuits and grapes.

The former option is obviously far less healthy than the later. If somebody started selling grape-flavoured biscuits, I'd never leave the house (providing whoever baked them delivered; if not, I’d have to pick them up in person or make them myself, which sounds like too much effort).

Today’s a case in point: my breakfast consisted of ASDA’s crunchy nut cornflake-(conflake?)-substitute, a mug of coffee, an episode of Frasier, followed by biscuit after biscuit after biscuit after biscuit. My alibi for the lack of exercise and the multi-biscuit intake was I was trapped under a sleeping cat. I had to eat what was in arm’s reach to survive; thank God I wasn’t sat next to a Bounty or I would have starved; those bars are the Devil’s fruit.

Speaking of Bountys, Wikipedia describes them as consisting of a coconut filling “enrobed in chocolate”, which sounds too grand for my liking. It also says they were introduced in 1951, which blows my mind; sixty-six years as a loss-leader and they’re still being churned out: “A taste of paradise” my arse; a taste of potpourri, more like.

…but back today’s diet. After getting ready, I popped to my local shop where I bought a punnet of grapes that I went on to eat a single sitting. If I’m not careful, my evening will be spent on the loo; I bet you’re pleased you read this, aren’t you?

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