Following the news that MLAs spend an average of £32’000 a year between them on refreshments, an independent audit has revealed that over £10’000 was spent on Custard Creams.
Further to that, all bar one MLA revealed they never once saw a Custard Cream at a meeting, leaving all fingers pointing in the direction of Sinn Fein’s Barry McElduff who was often spotted with crumbs on his jacket and around his lower lip.
In a more sinister move, MI5 admitted to raiding McElduff’s offices for evidence of his mass biscuit consumption only to find nothing incriminating bar a poster of Peter Canavan being fouled by Conor Gormley and a CD of Philomena Begley’s ‘Songs From The Ramparts and other stuff’.
Independent Audit spokesperson Julie McPhearson added:
“It’s quite obvious that McElduff is addicted to Custard Creams and is using the offices in Stormont to feed this addiction. Catching him at it is another thing, as he appears to have a sound knowledge of the security camera black spots. But if you look closely at any photographs or video footage, you can see crumbs on his lapels and even sometimes chewing really slowly.”
McElduff, when questioned on the mysterious Custard Creamgate, remained nonchalant:
“These people have nothing better to be at. I haven’t had a Custard Cream since the 1990s although I’m partial to the Gypsy Creams at the wekend but they’re harder to get now. They can search the place all they want. They’d be better looking around Alex Maskey’s office and count the amount of empty Penguin biscuit wrappers.”
The audit also revealed that in 2016 alone, £5600 has already been spent on cocktail sausages, made exclusively by Cookstown Meats, firmly pointing the finger of suspicion at the SDLP’s Patsy McGlone.
A 42-stone man from Cabragh has told of his ambition to lose a third of his body weight and make it into the Dungannon Observer.
Morbidly obese Sidney Clarke decided to shed some weight after realising that he could no longer see his own feet, but despite his best efforts is unable to shift virtually any of the weight.
“I can’t understand it”, he bemoaned. “Doctor McElhattan gave me a strict diet of wholemeal bread, salad, pulses and veg and stuff. I make sure I have it every single night of the week without fail, just before my normal tea out of the Chinese or chippy. But none of it’s working. Feckin’ doctor. He’s a waste of space. He even told me that since Opal Fruits changed their name to Starburst, they don’t even count as one of my five a day”.
Clarke’s willpower and motivation has also been affected by lack of progress following a book he purchased initially with high hopes, entitled, ‘You’re Amazing! – How To Think Yourself Thin’, basically a 20-word diet stretched into nearly 300 pages costing £19.99 available at all good bookshops to gullible and desperate men like Clarke.
“I’m thinking of a new approach”, confided Clarke. “I’ve read about this diet that’s great for weight loss with guaranteed results, where they basically open you up and rip a whole lock of guts and stuff out your stomach that you don’t need and then stitch you back up again. Mighty. I think that’s a weight loss programme that could really fit with my lifestyle”.
In the meantime Clarke has resorted to other tactics in an effort to get himself noticed.
“I’ve been walking past the Observer offices in Ann Street wearing my ‘I Beat Anorexia!’ t-shirt, hoping that I’d get described as ‘larger than life’ or even as a ‘chubby funster. ‘Fat Lord’ doesn’t really have the same ring about it. And I’d love the Observer to photograph me after losing loads of weight, standing sidey- ways inside my old trousers with a big smile on my face. But I’ve only lost 2 pounds so far and the doctor reckons I have at least 120 to to go. Some handlin’”,
said Clarke, before going into an uncontrollable coughing fit and reaching for a packet of custard creams.
A Donaghmore veterinary surgeon has temporarily moved into a caravan in Carland, away from her loughshore husband, after an on-going row about biscuits being bought for their house/mansion from the local filling station. Edward and Victoria Buckingham-Kensington have promised to patch up their differences in time but admit that a ‘time-out’ situation is the best course of action this weekend.
Victoria described what has forced her to desperate measures, and a trip to Carland:
“Frig the Fig Rolls. Donaghmore people do not eat Fig Rolls. Last week it was Bourbon Creams. The week before Custard Creams. What was he going to do next week? Jammy Dodgers or Pink Panthers? Hobs Nobs would even be better as they sound like the sort of biccie you’d eat around Ivybank Park alright. I’ve had enough. I know I shouldn’t have married a Derrylaughan man but I thought I could civilize him a bit by changing his surname from Donnelly to Buckingham-Kensington but obviously not. Fig Rolls, my posterior.”
Edward (previously known as Red Henry’s Lad) admitted he needs to up his effort if he’s to hold on to his Donaghmore dame:
“Aye, this is a bit of a blow. To be fair I saw the signs. Last week I told her I’d surprise her with a meal when she came back from horse-riding down the Pomeroy Road. I thought the corned-beef sandwiches plastered in brown sauce would do the trick but she went clean berserk and rubbed my face in it. I must try harder. I’m reconsidering the wellingtons and yard brush I got her for Christmas. Maybe I’ll change them for caviar or lobster or something these Donaghmore ones snack on.”
Victoria will remain in the caravan in Carland until her husband convinces her he can shake off the Derrylaughanish, starting with ditching the souped-up Massey he goes to parent-teacher meetings in.
The worrying problem of pensioner biscuit addiction worsened yesterday in the County when three octogenarians from Cappagh were arrested for manufacturing substitute custard creams and trying to sell them in the Pomeroy Diamond. It is believed that the pensioners were trying to make home-made biscuits using custard powder, milk and two small rectangular pieces of cardboard.
“The price of custard creams is now up to 75p for 400 grams, and that has created a thriving black market” said Chief Inspector John Quinn of the PSNI, which has set up a dedicated ‘Custard Cream Team’ to deal with the problem. “The addiction is a growing problem in Tyrone. Walk round Stewartstown on a Saturday morning and you can hardly move for the used teabags lying about. It’s disgusting. People are scared of going out of their house for fear of being accosted by a wrinkly pestering them for a ‘couple of biccies’. The street price for sandwich biscuits has gone crazy, with a single chocolate bourbon costing as much as 7 pence on some street corners in East Tyrone”.
Quinn also warned of a growing scam across the County, “where pensioners ask if they can ‘just pop in for a wee cup of tae in ma hand’ and as soon as the unwitting neighbour’s back is turned they’re getting tore into the biscuit box like a demon possessed”.
“I started experimenting with biscuits when I got into my 70s” said Kitty Clarke, a biscuit taker from Cabragh. “At first I just took them recreationally when I was down the Killeeshil Community Centre on a Wednesday morning at the sewing bee, maybe the odd fig roll or malted milk. But by the time I was 75 I was into the heavy stuff like chocolate bourbons, custard creams, even jammy dodgers. They say crystal meth rots your teeth? Try troughing your way through six packets if iced gems without so much as a cup of tea. I feel so ashamed. Last week I got into a fight with old Tommy Crawford from Castlecaulfield, because I had got hold of his ginger nuts and wouldn’t let go. We’re fine now, but only because he insisted I gave him a chocolate finger”.
In a desperate effort to curb the problem Dungannon Hospital has started administering substitute custard creams in the form of garibaldis and digestives. The hospital also has a detox programme, gradually weaning the pensioners onto hobnobs, to rich tea biscuits and finally onto a plain piece of Ryvita bread.
Readers affected by this article should contact any branch of Biscuits Anonymous.