I'm ashamed to say that for quite some time we continued to raid the foodbank supplies in the tunnels. We were stealing food, basically, from the mouths of those who needed it most.
Or were we?
Theft, of the lowest order.
Or was it?
All was not quite as it might seem. Partly, obviously - but not quite.
For the supplies had already been stolen - they were, you could say, pre-stolen comestibles. Tins of rice pudding, mandarin oranges, baked beans, cartons of UHT milk and boxes of cereal left in the tunnels by A.N. Other along with a miasma of 21st century misery. Did that make what we were doing - pilfering - better? Did it absolve us of responsibility?
After a brief, rather dull discussion around 'degrees of theft' (to be continued) and the current direction of travel of moral turpitude in general, we lugged our tins of custard and packets of cheesy pasta back to the Outcrop.
'Geoffrey, this isn't vittles, this is crap. Where is the korn bif? Where is the Madeira? Where are the pouches of best baccy? What possible use can we find for custard and cheesy pasta? Perhaps - and at the risk, heaven forfend, of sounding sanctimonious - we should lug it back to the tunnels, for someone who actually, erm... needs it.'
'Well Tuppy, not so fast there. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it but I've been suffering from a touch of diarrhoea lately. And I believe this is precisely the type of bland, fibre-free 'vittles' that might put an end to my toilet torment.'
next time - we discover who 'pre-stole' the foodbank comestibles - and why.
