Annaghshee Household On Red Alert As Parent Accidentally Cuts Toast Into Triangles Instead of Squares
Tensions were said to be at breaking point in the Annaghshee housing estate in Dungannon, following a near-fatal error by a parent who incorrectly cut up jammy toast for her 4-year old daughter Caitlin.
“I don’t know what I was thinking”, said distraught mother Susan McGoldrick.
“I was so busy making sure I used the jam that’s got no bits in it, that I cut it into triangles and not squares. I forgot that she doesn’t like triangles anymore since she saw her big cousin, who’s 6, eat sandwiches that were cut into squares. I tried to backtrack saying that it was actually her da’s toast and not hers, but it was too late. The damage was done. She went absolutely ape shit. How will I live with myself?”
The episode prompted the 4-year old Caitlin to go into a near-apoplectic fit, which included screaming, stamping of feet, tears streaming down the face and, at one heart-stopping point, flailing of arms.
The stand-off, which local press have already nicknamed ‘Toastgate’, continued late into mid-morning, with local neighbour and Councillor Sean McGill being quickly summoned to the scene. McGill was able to talk to reporters during short breaks in negotiations.
“It’s tara boys, I have to tell ye”, as he mopped sweat from his brow with a Thomas the Tank Engine serviette. “It’s a knife edge in there. To make matters worse, wee Caitlin’s got hold of the remote control and she’s started waving it about. If she accidentally deletes all of the Game of Thrones that her big sister’s taped, then Caitlin’ll be the least of our worries. Jays, I’ve never encountered anything as hard as this. And I used to sit on the Parades Commission”.
The delicate negotiations began shortly after 10am, with Caitlin’s father Peter trying to diffuse the situation by offering unlimited Cheerios and two Jammy Dodgers, to no avail. They later made some headway with a further concession of three back-to-back episodes of Strawberry Shortcake and a stay-over at Granny McGee’s next weekend, which was met with sniffles and folded arms, but fewer tears.
However, latest reports indicate matters taking a turn for the worse from an unexpected source, when father Peter foolishly advised Caitlin that ‘Mummy was a stupid bat for making her feckin’ toast all wrong”.
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.