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Cherry-O

by | 1st, June 2004

‘TALKING of the olden days, does anyone remember Mr Kipling?

A free cherry bakewell dildo with every pie

Yes, you at the back with the piercings. No, not the one who directed the film “If…”

We speak of the Mr Kipling who made “exceedingly good cakes”. Although we never actually met Mr Kipling himself, we felt we knew him, because the advertisements always featured the voice of his “friend”, who would tell us how Mr Kipling had invited him round to try his latest creation – and then enthuse about how much he had enjoyed his pal’s lemon fingers, or sticky balls, or whatever delight had tickled Mr K’s fancy that day.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and Mr Kipling’s friend has not been seen for many a year. Which may have something to do with a story in today’s Star, entitled “Mr KIPLING’S EXCEEDINGLY MOULDY PIES”.

Apparently, thousands of the great man’s fruit pies have been ordered off the shelves by officials from the Food Standards Agency.

The problem is that Mr Kipling, being an old-fashioned sort of cove, doesn’t put enough new-fangled preservatives into his confections, and after a while they start to go off.

And although they have been removed from shops, there is a fear that some people might have them stored at home – you know, the sort of people who still have supplies in their pantry from D-Day, the 1973 oil crisis, the truckers’ strike and the Millenium Bug panic.

Our own theory is that Mr Kipling’s friend passed away a long time ago, hence no more ads. So when Mr K himself kicked the bucket, there was no visitor to notice the strange smell coming out of his remote country cottage.

The delivery men worked their way through the backlog of pies in his shed, and eventually it became obvious that these were not quite as fresh as customers had come to expect.

Social services were called in, and discovered the decomposed Mr K head down in a bowl of cake-mix, a secret recipe crumpled up in his cold, rigid fist.

Meanwhile, the FSA advises anyone who has pies in their house to “take them back to the shop where they were bought and ask for a refund”.

Unless you bought them from old Peggy’s village shop in 1975, in which case, don’t waste your time. She died in a drive-by shooting two years ago, and it’s now an Ann Summers.’



Posted: 1st, June 2004 | In: Tabloids Comment | TrackBack | Permalink