Once upon a time there was a head of broccoli that lived in a supermarket. It was dark green, healthy looking and perfectly happy within it’s pre-packaged cellophane skin. There was just one problem. It was past it’s sell by date. Today was the 10th and the date on the broccoli was the 9th.
Then along came a man who and didn’t notice the broccoli’s age. He was drawn to it’s pleasing hue and tight mass of buds (which put many of it’s younger counterparts to shame). He put the vegetable in his basket and continued to shop. The broccoli beamed with pride.
But when it came to paying, a man at the till apologized profusely, saying that the broccoli was too old to be sold and shouldn’t have been on display.
“Just reduce the price” said the customer, “It looks fine”
“I can’t sell it to you” said the man. “It’s too old!”
“Do you want to just give it to me then?” asked the customer, logically.
At this, the check-out man stared at the customer as if he had just suggested that the man shoot himself up the arse with the, ‘maximum damage to tissue, on impact’ type bullets, as favoured by Oscar Pistorius.
“No!” said the check-out man, and threw the broccoli down with disdain, into a box on the floor. His expression signalled that the discussion was over.
The broccoli meh’d resignedly, a bit like Ben Kingsley at the end of Sexy Beast, when he’s lying under the sod with the devil..