'These aren't biscuits. They're Rich Teas.'
I didn't want to be rude (yet), so I spoke quietly and calmly. Then I placed the packet, or what remained of it after it had been stuck inside the underpants' back pocket while the Tupfinder General was wearing them, carefully on the games table.
I sat back and folded my arms. 'Well?'
'Well what?'
'Well, what else have you got? You said you had biscuits.'
'R-rich teas. They are biscuits. It says so on the packet - look. R-rich Tea BISCUITS.' The underpants were nervous, I could tell by the tremor in their voice and the way their legs were twitching as they sat on the edge of the settee. I decided to press my point.
'A biscuit is only a biscuit if you can dunk it. FACT. You cannot dunk a Rich Tea. Geoffrey - put the kettle on. Three teas, extra strong with plenty sugar. And bring the Hobnobs. Let's do a comparison test.'
'Plain or chocolate?'
'Do I really need to answer that?'
'O I like a plain Hobnob,' enthused the underpants. I could tell they were trying to find common ground, and connect with my better side. Little did they know I don't have one.
'You'll never fit in round here,' I said. 'Rich Teas and plain Hobnobs? We're on different planets. Next you'll be saying you don't like fishfinger sandwiches. You might as well go back to wherever you came from - oh! it was the Narks, wasn't it?'
'Yes. As you already know, Val Nark created us from cloth made from thistles and nettles. She wove us on a loom that Dave made from salvaged timber and stitched us together with thread made from more thistles and nettles. But she went too far in her quest to produce an everlasting and 100% eco-friendly product. She made us strong - but it was the wrong type of strong. She gave us prehensile strength, and we couldn't cope with it, psychologically. We've become clingy and needy. In fact, we're emotional leeches, and we can't stop ourselves from 'acting out' by refusing to be removed whenever someone wears us. Can we stay? PLEASE? Don't send us back to the Narks' minimart-cum-farmshop-cum-postoffice. We'll feel safe here because we know you don't wear underpants. You'll be saving us from ourselves and doing the world a favour.'
'All right. You can live in the woodshed.'
'Will you teach us to read and write so we can tell our story to the world?'
'No.'
I didn't want to be rude (yet), so I spoke quietly and calmly. Then I placed the packet, or what remained of it after it had been stuck inside the underpants' back pocket while the Tupfinder General was wearing them, carefully on the games table.
I sat back and folded my arms. 'Well?'
'Well what?'
'Well, what else have you got? You said you had biscuits.'
'R-rich teas. They are biscuits. It says so on the packet - look. R-rich Tea BISCUITS.' The underpants were nervous, I could tell by the tremor in their voice and the way their legs were twitching as they sat on the edge of the settee. I decided to press my point.
'A biscuit is only a biscuit if you can dunk it. FACT. You cannot dunk a Rich Tea. Geoffrey - put the kettle on. Three teas, extra strong with plenty sugar. And bring the Hobnobs. Let's do a comparison test.'
'Plain or chocolate?'
'Do I really need to answer that?'
'O I like a plain Hobnob,' enthused the underpants. I could tell they were trying to find common ground, and connect with my better side. Little did they know I don't have one.
'You'll never fit in round here,' I said. 'Rich Teas and plain Hobnobs? We're on different planets. Next you'll be saying you don't like fishfinger sandwiches. You might as well go back to wherever you came from - oh! it was the Narks, wasn't it?'
'Yes. As you already know, Val Nark created us from cloth made from thistles and nettles. She wove us on a loom that Dave made from salvaged timber and stitched us together with thread made from more thistles and nettles. But she went too far in her quest to produce an everlasting and 100% eco-friendly product. She made us strong - but it was the wrong type of strong. She gave us prehensile strength, and we couldn't cope with it, psychologically. We've become clingy and needy. In fact, we're emotional leeches, and we can't stop ourselves from 'acting out' by refusing to be removed whenever someone wears us. Can we stay? PLEASE? Don't send us back to the Narks' minimart-cum-farmshop-cum-postoffice. We'll feel safe here because we know you don't wear underpants. You'll be saving us from ourselves and doing the world a favour.'
'All right. You can live in the woodshed.'
'Will you teach us to read and write so we can tell our story to the world?'
'No.'
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