It’s lunchtime and I am about to tuck into my Coronation Chicken sandwich. I am hoping for today’s meal to be better than yesterday’s, and that I find no nasty surprises…
While eating my roll, I was rather perturbed to find a small, hard object inside my mouth. At first I thought I had lost a tooth, and quickly spat chicken, mayonnaise, bread and saliva all over the desk. In the pile of regurgitation, I noticed a stone – yes, a fucking stone! As my sandwich hadn’t been prepared on a cliff side, I can only imagine the piece of rock had found its way into my food at the factory!
I decided I would keep the stone and try and use it as a bargaining tool with some Sainsbury’s manager, hoping the threat of prosecution over my traumatic experience would lead to a free shopping trip. It would be just like the TV show, Supermarket Sweep, only without Dale Winton. Unfortunately the stone was placed in the pocket of my trousers, and my trousers were then placed in the washing machine. I assume the stone is now lost in the washing machine’s drainage pipe. Bugger.
I have a brand new roll today – hopefully I won’t find any bits of glass or nails in this one!
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