Ah soup, that staple of the chilly day when you really can't be arsed to chew.
|A bowl of soup|
On just such a day, I settled me down in front of a recording of 'Secrets of World War II' with a steaming bowl of Beef and Vegetable.
Imagine my distress when my teeth closed down onto something hard and scratchy and not at all like the overcooked vegetable cube I was expecting.
I hastily removed the interloper and, peering myopically at it, convinced myself that it was a small piece of wood. It had branches and everything.
But Wood? In my soup?! Surely these are austerity measures gone bonkers?
Before you could say, 'How many varieties?' I packed the little blighter off to the appropriate authority and awaited their response.
Their response was that it was not, in fact, a piece of splintersome timber but a rogue piece of carrot.
However, they did concede that it was several thousand times harder than it ought to be.
|A Pile of Logs|
|A Pile of Carrots|
They also gifted me with a voucher worth five of your English Pounds.
Unfortunately, the voucher seems to have got caught up with the recycling.
And that was collected yesterday.