Theresa May scrapes the mould off jam and eats the rest

Theresa May scrapes the mould off jam and eats the rest

By Chris Bovey

It’s six weeks left until a potential ‘no deal’ Brexit, so our politicians and political commentators are speculating on some of the most important issues of the day, such as: “how long does Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn preserve their jam?”

As ‘Project Fear’ becomes ‘Project Reality’, with looming fears of food shortages entirely due to leaving the EU without a plan, Mother Theresa has been dishing out some handy tips on how to keep the country’s spirits all lifted up by announcing how thoroughly she can scrape the mould off the surface of her lush jam sandwich before she takes a bite.

Bosses of seven major grocers, including Tesco, Sainsbury’s and Asda signed a letter warning of shortages, higher prices, fewer choice thanks to the massive clusterfuck of Brexit that is entirely of the government’s own making.

Job losses and food & medical supply shortages

This obviously is exactly what the 52% of British public had in mind when they voted to take back control and Theresa May announced her Brexit red lines.

To maintain impartiality our famously neutral mainstream media reported the Leader of the Opposition’s sentiments on whether mouldy jam should be thrown away, a Labour Party spokesman proudly spoke how: “Jeremy’s love of both making and consuming jam is well known and he doesn’t ever allow it to get to the scraping-off stage.”

When the British automotive industry warns of “catastrophe” if no-deal Brexit happens, with jobs already being lost at massive manufacturers such as Ford, Range Rover and Jaguar, and before we’ve even left due to Brexit uncertainty, it’s nice to know such an important issue as jam preservation is at the top of the political agenda.

The £5 billion pound British computer game industry which has warned 40% of UK video games companies are considering relocating part or all of their business after Brexit will be relieved, as who doesn’t like a bit of jam on toast while they spark up their consoles and gaming PCs.

My own view is mouldy jam is rank! If I find a jar of mouldy strawberry jam hidden away in the deepest darkest depths of one of my kitchen cupboards, it goes straight in the bin. That’s fucking disgusting Theresa. She clearly misses the finer details of being the Prime Minister of a first world country, where mildew should just be a quickly resolved toilet problem.

Food Standards Agency does not approve of mouldy food

The Food Standards Agency (FSA) – responsible for protecting public health in relation to food would agree with me. They have warned that it has potentially harmful repercussions.

The agency warned some species of mould can produce toxins that are known to have adverse effects in humans as well as in animals.

They warn: ‘It is advised not to eat food that is obviously rotten or containing mould due to potential risks from the mould.”

Perhaps these toxins have got into our Prime Minister’s brain and damaged it, which might explain some of her doolally decisions.

Nostalgia: a return of wartime food rationing

Brian Bovey 1930-2005

My late father, Brian Bovey, who was regularly found in the Steam Packet Inn, Kingswear, to entertain the grockles (tourists) regaling his wartime memories as a child.

My late father was born on the first day of the 1930s, lived through the war in the south Devon coastal village of Kingswear that suffered heavy bombing in the area due to its proximity to Dartmouth and we actually made ships back then.

He used to like telling his memories of the war in Dartmouth and Kingswear. The British population were subjected to food rationing, which wasn’t such a great problem for my dad’s family as his own father was a groundsman with a gun, so he could go out and shoot something.

When the country will start being battered by ferocious Brexit induced food and medical shortages, I suspect many of the British population would appreciate once again possessing a reassuring firearm, to be pointed and shot either at fluffy rabbits or mouldy politicians who caused this bloody mess in the first place.

I never would have dreamed the European project that has given us over 70 years of peace and prosperity could be vandalised by extremist right-wing loonies who have a wet-dream of turning the UK into some kind of Singapore-style offshore tax haven off the coast of mainland Europe. My father would be turning in his grave.

My father told tales of actually seeing the face of a German pilot having a battle in the air with a British Spitfire pilot over the River Dart. The old Midland Bank on the famous Dartmouth Butterwalk was bombed killing his school friend. Even though at a certain point they did rebuild it,  now due to branch closures there is not a single bank left in Dartmouth, so the Germans got their way in the end.

Apparently, there is an unexploded German bomb underneath what is now the Darthaven Marina in Kingswear next to the tourist steam train railway station by the river.

The old Noss Shipyard on the Kingswear side of the River Dart, was bombed, killing the brother of my parent’s next-door neighbour. Planning permission has been given to convert the site into luxury flats and a marina, including even some affordable housing for us locals with one-bedroom flats starting at £750,000. Unfortunately, for us locals, the project has been put on hold due to a protected species of bats having roosted in the old shipyard, so they can’t knock it down until they find a way of safely moving the bats.

Brexshit is a batshit crazy idea, so can we postpone that too, preferably indefinitely.

Photo of Kingswear and the River Dart

A view of the south Devon village of Kingswear taken from Dartmouth on the opposite side of the estuary of the River Dart, where I regularly missed the ferry as a chid to turn up late for school.

Chris Bovey, writer and musician.

Chris Bovey is a businessman, writer, artist, musician and practical joker. He lives in Devon with his partner, two children and cat. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter @ADHD_BadBoy.

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