Relating a pleasant apple based day to the misery of politics

It is 11.20am and Apple Day is doomed. bunt An over-officious and over-wrought woman who looks like Theresa May is explaining the various catalysts that have occurred since Apple Day’s official starting time of twenty minute ago to a volunteer Apple Day assistant who has  the contorted, confused but benign face that reads ‘Why did I agree to help on Apple Day? In fact did I ever agree to help on Apple Day?’ apple ‘It was a lot busier than this last year, a lot busier at this time,’ Overwrought Managerial Apple Day woman who looks like Theresa May says staring with bleak despair at the happy throng skipping towards the Apple Day festivities. ‘I think the problem is is that people looked at the initial weather forecast and planned home-based activities instead.’ I think about the concept of looking at a weather forecast and planning a home based activity in the unlikely event Apple Day in Ulverston  is called off. I think about the concept of a planning a home based activity. Either Overwrought Managerial Apple Day Woman who looks like Theresa May  knows better people than me or they don’t get CBBC in Ulverston. boar Overwrought Managerial Apple Day Woman who looks like Theresa May has not finished explaining yet. I wonder when she actually started. She shows the volunteer a basket of lumpen sturdy apples and explains the concept of the game. The concept of the game is to peel the longest unbroken piece of apple skin. Then the health and safety kicks in. ‘This stall can’t be left for a minute. Because of the peelers’. apllllll Suddenly all I can see through the warm October shards of sunlight are cruel twisted faces of evil. Evil that given a chance will peel you with an unguarded peeler and leave your broken slimy entrails dangling by the apple related bunting whilst it goes to to peel and peel again.


Serious faced people trundle past with manky apples in wheelbarrows to see them transformed into what strongly resembles the viscous  first wee of the day. There are Morris Dancers! There is bunting, apple cake, apple pie! It’s like if the Great British Bake-off and that poem about spinsters on bicycles playing cricket or whatever has all become one great ‘Brexit’ dream about the identity of England. rot A Blackcurrant Fruit Shoot adrift in a fake purple shoe on the vaguely apple themed tombola is Judas and all the genial looking men proudly holding warty but honest apples are definitely Jeremy Corbyn. shpot A polite well dressed man smiles amicably as his dog has a shit near the playground and suddenly I remember the heady days of Nigel Farage. Oh England. Oh Apple Day. Oh Blackcurrant Fruit Shoot on a raft of fake shoe with a trail of bedraggled peeling glitter behind you. I do like you.   lat

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