Evidence that you can write an elegiac piece of prose to commemorate the life of just about anything

We are here today to mourn the sad loss of Humungous Box of Cling Film, who has been part of Fran's family for three years, and has been a valued member of the household.  Her passing today is a sad moment.  Let us take a minute to bow our heads.

BOW your heads, you hard-hearted swines, you.

Now for Humungous's Official Obituary

Humungous Box of Cling Film was born into Fran's household in 2008 at the occasion of her son's wedding.  Humungous was purchased from a local supermarket and was a major feature of the said wedding, being used to wrap up 396 leftover baked potatoes which had proved not as successful a food item as had been anticipated.  From that moment on, everyone knew that Humungous was not just your average box of cling film, but one that, even after wrapping 396 leftover baked potatoes, had still a long, long life ahead of her.

After the wedding, Humungous was brought home to reside in Fran's kitchen, where, for the past three years, she has occupied a special place leaning against a tray and a dustpan and brush.  Every morning, Humungous has supplied a square of cling film for Fran to wrap her sandwiches in, and every day Fran has thought, 'How much longer can Humungous go on?  Surely she is coming to the end of her days.  She has lasted longer than every single one of the hamsters we have had, for a start.'

At the risk of speaking ill of the dead, it has to be said that, over time, Fran's attachment to Humungous began to diminish.  For a start, every time she pulled Humungous out from under the work surface, the tray and the dustpan and brush clattered to the floor having lost their main source of support from Humungous's humungousness.  Rebalancing a tray, a dustpan and brush and a box the length of the Wall of China was never easy for Fran when dawn had barely broken and she was still trying to hang on to a dream with Johnny Depp in it.

Also, Humungous could not be said to have been the most elegant of kitchen accessory, being the size of the Titanic (although, admittedly, proving more durable).  Every time Fran hauled Humungous out and lay her on the kitchen surface, she was at risk of nudging the kettle and toaster over the edge to a certain death.  Humungous had an edge to her personality, too, and over the three years, she has been the cause of the fact that Fran's sandwiches have contained peanut butter, cucumber and a few drops of fresh blood.  Not a recipe you will see on Masterchef.

One day, though (today), Fran's husband sat down at dinner and said, 'I have some big news.  Humungous is no more.'  And Fran shed a tear into her pasta, while at the same time thinking (guiltily) how nice it would be to have a neat little box of cling film nestling in a drawer, rather than a monstrosity such as Humungous taking up more room in her kitchen than Nigella Lawson's chest would have done.

You are warmly invited to Humungous's burial which will take place tomorrow morning at the Recycling Bin.  Hymns will be sung (starting with 'Cling of Clings') and prayers will be said for the soul of the dear departed.

Then Fran will be down at Tesco like a shot to buy Humungous's successor.

RIP Humungous.  Whoops.  There's no more to rip!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

No one had told Fran that the 300 meant 'years'


  1. Chuckling out loud: your poor hamsters, were they buried in said humungous cling film shrouds?

  2. Charlotte - jest not. One gerbil who died got wrapped in foil and put in the bin by someone who will remain nameless but it wasn't me and it wasn't the kids.

  3. Sodding cling-film always clings to itself in a hopeless tangle before I manage to get it anywhere near its intended position.I'll send you my barely-used box...

  4. Did Humungous leave any offspring? I'm sure she must have been a good roll model to someone.

  5. Brilliant! Sing a hymn for me!

  6. Aw, this post brought a tear to my eye. RIP Humungous! Sniffle.....

  7. You do realise that, by mentioning cling film, you've probably increased your traffic by a considerable margin? Must be a lot of people out there, interested in keeping their sandwiches fresh...ahem.

  8. Even back in my waitress days, it seemed like those huge rolls lived forever. I can't imagine how much wrapping you have had to do over three years to use up the whole thing.

  9. I've long had a deep respect for you and your myriad talents . But this entry has convinced me . You can do ANYTHING .
    Even tame cling film .

  10. Anne Boleyn14/6/11 05:12

    My first time here and I already love your blog.
    I too had a industrial/restaurant sized box of cling film which lasted far longer than three years. It moved with me, when it was already at least a year old, to my parents' home when I went to care for them. This move increased usage by 50% as there were now the leftovers for 4 rather than 2 to deal with (Is that % thing correct?I've never been sure about 50 and 100%). On and on it went. Happily it did have a nice space on a shelf, so it was not a problem, just an amazing curiosity, especially to elderly visitors who marveled at its size and its ability to stand firmly in place when dispensing film. I believe it lasted close to 7 years, and I miss it but feel, as my 68th birthday approaches and I am a household of one (down 75%?), that it might be optimistic to replace it.

  11. brilliant post:-)
    thanks for sharing

  12. I have another hymn suggestion for Humungous's funeral - 'Didn't Abide with Me' ?

    Anna May x

  13. SO funny!! And I'm actually in London this week so I'll mourn in closer proximity. Hubby is always trying to get me to buy a Humungous but this is exactly why I don't want one! Who wants another family member that sits on the counter and bites?

  14. Anonymous14/6/11 15:29

    I want to know how long it took you to finish those baked potatoes.I bet that some of them are even now lurking in your freezer, wrapped in bits of Humungous...

    I still can't comment in my name. AARRGGHH! Isabelle.


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