(Yes, it’s another stuck at home, covid post)
The virus hit me unexpectedly so much so that my cupboard wasn’t entirely brimming with food. The freezer was, thankfully, yet those perishables and little things you take for granted were already gone. I had to rely on the kindness of friends to drop shopping at my door. They could have flung it through my bedroom window and I would have been fine with that as long as I didn’t clock 4 pints of milk right between the eyes.
I asked for bananas and this is what I received:
My hands are tiny anyway, they’re not the best for sizing up another item accordingly. These were the biggest, longest, fattest bananas I have ever had the pleasure of being in the company of. Sexual jokes aside (phwoar mate, get your lips round that, that’s the kind of girth ma missus would die for, someone’s gonna be happy tonight, are you sticking with the one or is the full bunch going up there etc. etc.) I found it easier to bite them along the side rather than trying to cut off a full disc. Is that the right expression? A banana disc? Let’s go with that.
Before they were fully ripened, because they turned up solid and green, you could have built a shed with one. You could have someone’s eye out with that. The option to beat a man to death with one was on the cards, if only I hadn’t been self-isolating the possibilities would have been endless.
Let us all say a psalm and remember, if you’re going to start a fight make sure your opponent isn’t in possession of a banana that’s greener than a Ninja Turtle and tougher than Chuck Norris.
11 comments on “BIG BA… NANAS”
We once got some bananas this big. They were so massive and so solid that we built a garden fence out of them.
It turned brown and fell over two weeks later.
You and your crazy fence life. One of these days I’m going to find a fence that doesn’t belong to you and it will blow me right over.
There’s no such thing. The fences are ours, all ours, and you can’t have any of them. I am Fence King and you will bow before my flimsy wooden barricades.
If someone built a fence on a swan would it still belong to you or would it be the Queen’s? There’s a head scratcher.
I’d like to see someone try to build a fence on a swan. The wingspan of a swan is wider than the broken arm of a man, or something.
If you approached it crimsonly, making sure not to make any sound, I believe it could be possible. You might need to build the fence first and then head towards the swan. The sound of cutting and sanding wood is guaranteed to alert any first, second or third class swan.
Are you saying that a swan of first, second or third class calibre would be instantly enraged by the sounds of cutting, sanding or approaching, but would be unlikely to notice fence posts being hammered into it? I’m starting to feel like I don’t understand swans at all.
Being a swanologist, I know all of the swan facts that regular noobs like you don’t know about. Yes, swans have an intense hatred for DIY because they don’t have hands and cannot use tools. They also can’t believe it’s not butter.
So what you’re saying is that, if I was offering a swan some buttered toast or a sandwich, I could make a cash saving by using knock-off non-dairy spread instead of Lurpak salted butter, because the swan will completely believe that the non-dairy spread is butter?
That’s going to save me a fortune.
That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.
Got it in one.
Top of the class.
Frisk of the month.
All along the wobbly watchtower of thumbs up.
I’d reply to this properly but I’m too busy scamming a whole canal full of swans with badly made sandwiches. These suckers have no idea!