Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

These days, it’s the cakes that are the real terrorists

Pssscaket! It’s me, Jon Bon Jovi. Not the real Bon Jovi of course, it’s just a pretend name that I use to cover my tracks. I was in Sainsbury’s supermarket the other day, perusing the delicatessen, when I heard a rustling in the Bon Bon Cake section. It sounded very suspicious so I did what I always do when I feel threatened, which is to shout “Not now, Margaret!” at the top of my voice. It’s a defensive reaction that has always served me well and I got the idea from hedgehogs. And why not? If a hedgehog hears a twig snap or an amorous couple engaging in a spot of noisy impromptu coitus on a picnic blanket, then he will roll himself up into a ball until the threat has passed.

It’s been about twenty years since I last got on a plane and with good reason: I am scared to death of them! The authorities spend all that money on X-ray machines, metal detectors, and bald men who want to sneak a digit up your backside, yet none of that is going to stop anything with a biscuit buttery base is it? What will these security bods do if some chocolate fingers and sultana croissants team up and start sneaking through the air vents? Are they going to go after them, armed with cups of warm sugary tea, hoping to dissolve them before they get anywhere near the fuel tanks? I think not.

Even the roads aren’t safe anymore. Cats eyes? Street lights? Toll roads? Like, hello! A baked lump of fundamentalist flour, sugar, and egg simply isn’t going to take any notice of those things. They are masters of strategy and will simply outflank anything that you put in their way. But no-one ever listens to me, they just roll their eyes and call me a nutter. Wait, hold on. Why are those security guards looking at me? Why are they surrounding me? Good Lord, not even Bon Jovi is safe from these tasty snacks! Somebody, please help!

Not now, Margaret!

24 responses to “These days, it’s the cakes that are the real terrorists

  1. Karen 06/11/2012 at 9:14 AM

    No cake can get past me, it wouldn’t stand a chance 😉

  2. Julie Rainey 06/11/2012 at 2:39 PM

    Don’t let him escape! hehehe 🙂

  3. The Creative Outpost 06/11/2012 at 5:18 PM

    Those darn sneaky digits!!!

  4. Lily 06/11/2012 at 6:16 PM

    Poor Bon Jovi. I would never want to live life as a pastry. If I’m a pastry in my next life, I’ll probably try to make a run for it.

  5. PCC Advantage 06/12/2012 at 8:59 PM

    I’d show that cake who’s boss. I don’t mess around, Bon Jovi…

  6. Pete Howorth 06/13/2012 at 6:51 PM

    “bald men who want to sneak a digit up your backside”

    …The doctor that examined me for piles was bald… Maybe he wasn’t a doctor at all?!

  7. Buck Tanner 06/14/2012 at 12:30 AM

    Hey! I found your blog on goodreads. Very funny!


  8. mel 06/14/2012 at 9:22 AM

    Are you also a fan of the Masterchef rap: (I love a) buttery biscuit base?

  9. Mooselicker 06/16/2012 at 6:27 PM

    I heard the real Bon Jovi used to stuff his pants with pastries.

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