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A Cornish pasty bought in the train station is still too bloody hot to eat, a man has confirmed.
The news comes numerous failed attempts by Mike McBride to take an initial bite out of his lunchtime purchase of a large traditional pasty at Retford train station to enjoy on his train journey home.
‘It’s like biting into a portion of pastry-covered molten lava, even 2 hours after purchase’, said McBride, struggling to get his words out due to the extensive blistering on his lips and the roof of his mouth’.
‘I thought I’d made some inroads into it with a tentative bite as our train approached Peterborough' admitted McBride. 'But the lukewarm pastry on the outside belied the still-300 degree celsius temperature of the meat filling.'
‘We’re proud to serve our pasties at a temperature approaching that on the surface of the sun’, said Dave Jones, CEO of the Really Really Traditional Pasty Company.
‘Mr McBride should be able to enjoy his tasty cornish pasty sometime in the middle of next year’, continued Jones. ‘Alternatively, he could accelerate the cooling process by purchasing some of our potato wedges and placing his pasty next to these. They’re always absolutely stone cold’.
While much of the country is showing distaste for the state of the UKs waterways and shorelines, the water involved is more concerned that the Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs has decided to take up wild swimming. 'Turds are a fact of life in British waterways,' mused one stretch of fouled water, 'but at least they tend to float. The displacement alone will give us another bad name,' it added.
Environmentalists don't know whether to be amazed that waterways have developed enough sentience to be able to express opinions on politicians, or surprise that politicians have simply reduced themselves to a level that turd infested water finds them as repellent as the voting public do. A famous stretch of water alongside Brighton used to humans skinny-dipping regurgitated vomit left by a hen party at the thought that Coffey might shed her clothes and enter it.
'I'd rather have Michael Gove skinny dipping,' mused the sea front, 'at least the cocaine takes the edge off'.
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