So, here I am, sitting in front of my desk at home, wondering what I can do that's purposeful, and I'm thinking, 'I know! Why don't I tell my readers what's on my desk?! That'll make them put their Val McDermid thriller down just so they can find out! What jolly spiffing ideas I have!'
|'What? Fran's writing about what's on her desk?! Suddenly, I have lost ALL desire|
to find out who dunnit.'
What's On My Desk
1. An empty Walkers Cheese and Onion crisps packet which is annoying the hell out of me. Oh, the crisps tasted okay, but then I had just got in from school and would have gladly chewed on a mildewed cardboard box, so that's not saying much. This is what it says on the front of the packet:
Cheese and Onion
Flavour Potato Crisps
Let me translate this for you:
We want you to think these crisps
have real cheese and onion in them
but really they've been as near to cheese and onion as David Cameron's been to a Lidl store
Then there's a load of guff on the back telling you that, 'Having grown up in a 10-acre field by the Dog 'n' Duck, the spuds chosen for this bag will go to the ends of the earth [I think I am going to be sick - who writes this stuff?] to make sure they get into a bag of Walkers Cheese and Onion Flavour Crisps. This mouth-watering combo is so popular that these spuds know the nation's favourite is the only flavour for them.'
Darling, what's that you're reading?
Oh, hello, Mummy Potato. I'm just reading the careers booklet I got from school.
Oh yes? And what does it advise?
Well, you know you wanted me to be a doctor or a professor?
I think I'd rather be sliced thinly, fried, covered in pretend flavours, and sold for an astronomical price to a member of the unwitting public. Would you and Daddy mind?
We hoped for much more, dear. You know how upset we were that your brother wanted to be a crinkle-cut chip and had no more ambition than that.
And you didn't like my big sister leaving home to become powdered instant mash either, did you, Mummy?
Could you not at least apply to be a nice middle-class Kettle Chip or part of a pile of what they call crushed potato in posh restaurants? We all know they mean 'not properly mashed', but it's very fashionable, dear.
Okay, Mummy, maybe you're right. Or I might even go back to the idea of being someone who broadcasts what's happening during a football match.
Ugh! You mean, be a common tater? No way!
2. Oh dear. I have written so much claptrap about Number 1 that now I've got to Number 2, I feel I can't impose much more on you, kind reader to stay even this long. Should I be worried that I can write quite that much about a piece of litter? Be grateful, my friends, that I am going to spare you the story of the empty mug, revolving pencil and National Trust calendar ...
Time for bed. Teaching is hard work, especially on Fridays when the sun is shining and the kids really would rather be eating their own ear wax than sitting in your class. I saw an advert in the Times Educational Supplement's job pages today for a 'Teacher of Resistant Materials'. Ha ha ha ha! That's me!
Should you not have taken your medication today and want to read another post about a crisp packet, there's one here. I should not be able to show my face in public, really, having written two posts about crisp packets.
|A picture for fishducky|