Did you steal my custard?!


Yesterday I made the Sunday lunch, and, seeing that we had no pudding I whipped up a sponge cake covered in butter cream and sliced strawberries, and I served it with custard. Now, there was some custard left over so I poured it into a mug and hid it in the fridge behind a large bag of carrots thinking that today, after I had finished my work and done the ironing I would slice up an apple, fry it off in some butter, brown sugar and cinnamon and eat it with the rescued custard perhaps while watching an episode of ab fab or something.

An excellent plan I thought, delicious comfort food and one of your five a day in one sitting, what could go wrong?

Well I had sliced my apple and it was hissing away on the hob and I opened the fridge, moved the bag of carrots and recoiled in horror. Someone had stolen my custard! I have suffered a mortal shock, one doesn’t expect one’s custard to be stolen from under their noise, it isn’t moral and it isn’t decent.

If you are this pudding thief if deplorable morals I demand the following from you; at least three A4 sides of apology, hand written but with perfect spelling and grammar, in rhyming couplets, explaining the motivations behind your cruel and insolent behaviour and apologising profusely for it. I demand for your apology to be further expressed though the medium of dance, and in this performance you must include a camel and several tins of tuna. And finally, I demand replacement custard!

Your custardless,

Gwen

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About Gwen and Elinor

Two bloging buddies who love tea and biscuits.
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