Ethel gulped down the last of her Coca-Cola.
“Right,” she thought. “Now, my diet begins.”
She discarded the crumpled bottle and threw it near, but not quite in, the overflowing bin.
There were a couple of seconds of clarity, when Ethel knew that her life would change for the better.
But these were quickly discarded when Corrie came back on,
And she opened a can of Pepsi Max, resigned to a life of obesity.
The deal was done, and so Margery moved into her new home.
It had a fantastic view of Gunwarf Quay in Portsmouth.
If she looked hard, she could see the fishermen coming in with their daily catches at 7am sharp.
There was a nearby pathway where old women would walk their dogs and discuss the day’s soap.
Of course, this meant nothing to Margery, as she was a bumblebee,
And therefore had no awareness of the concept of aesthetics.
It was December 1st, and young Max received a parcel in the post.
He knew what it was – for he got one every year:
An advent calendar from his dear Grandmother.
Oh what glee he was filled with as he tore back the packaging.
And there it was: a Madagascar (his fourth favourite movie) themed calendar, filled with cheap Poundland chocolate.
He couldn’t stop himself.
He ripped off the first window and guzzled down a Marty-shaped chocolate.
But then he saw red.
Later, Max’s mum, Paula, walked into the kitchen and screamed as she saw young Max entangled on the floor within a pile of cardboard.
All the chocolate was gone.
Paula didn’t punish Max, for she knew that the disappointment he felt every day, when his older brother Darren ate a tasty tasty advent chocolate, was bad enough.
It was 7am,
And Murray ran downstairs filled with glee,
And gazed at the panoply of presents under the tree.
He jumped in, and grabbed a gift with his name on.
Tore off the paper, to see what it was:
A model locomotive D51!
He thanked God, Jesus, Santa, and his brother Phil, whom the present was from.
His wife, Janet, who had ripened with age, sat back in her chair,
And reassessed her marriage.
Today was the day, he thought.
Today, he would propose!
He bent down on one knee,
On the hard rocky terrain that, try as it might, did nothing to quell his spirits,
He pulled out the ring, and uttered those magic words.
“Oh, Mr Frodo!” cried Sam, the ashen winds of Mt Doom blowing through his luscious wavy hair.
Gollum watched from behind a rock, sighed, and decided that this endeavour just wasn’t worth it.