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Tom Cunninghams Cunning Marmite Conspiracy - An Ice Cream Gran Special
It’s dreadful, a disaster, it’s a terrible calamity Housewives going frantic for the thing they seek but cannot see Supermarket workers helping those who shout the most Try their best to find a jar of spread to spread on toast But all the angry faces glaring at the empty spaces Brought the staff to tears because there should be twenty cases The supervisor spoke with nervous voice and shaky hands I don’t suppose you might consider any other brands One old lady shook her fist and shouted in superlatives It’s fantastic, it tastes great, there can be no alternatives The crowds were getting rowdy, and were shouting at the man Who said, ‘I’ve told the manager: he’s calling Turbo Gran’ Sure enough, along the aisles Ice Cream Granny came She didn’t seem to walk but hovered with her Zimmer frame She said, ‘I’d had my doubts, but now it seems that you are right.’ I see some callous villain has purloined all your Marmite There is only one man who would stoop to such low levels A man who’d steal your Marmite but sell Vegemite to devils He will not share the tubby jar with friend or with his foe But the stubby jar with yellow top he’ll eagerly let go Thirty minutes later Gran is serving from her van A sign says ’Marmite Ice Cream. It’s unique to Ice Cream Gran.’ Jack the Lad, Tom Cunningham, looked ready for a fight He said, ‘Your sign’s a lie, I know you haven’t got Marmite.’ Gran replied, ‘I bought some from the superstore today.’ And Tom said, ‘You cannot have done, I snuck it all away.’ Turbo Gran said, ‘Gotcha, but what I don’t understand, Is, there are other yeasty spreads for sale in this fair land.’ Tom guffawed before he said, ‘Those others are so bland, That Vegemite’s for Lindsay Laurie in a far off land, And my friend Jan, from Isle of Man, who writes a lot on Soup Might describe the others as a festering pile of poop.’ But then he looked at Granny’s sign and said, ‘What I don’t get, Is I don’t think that you’ve sold any Marmite ice cream yet.’ ‘Of course I haven’t,’ Granny said, ‘ice cream with Marmite in it…’ Even you would tell me, if I made it you would bin it.’ Tom said, ‘Look here, Turbo Gran, I have just this to say, Marmite hoarding ain’t a crime, you can’t nick me today.’ ‘You see, I didn’t steal it, cos I bought it all for cash It matters not how much you search, you’ll never find my stash.’ But Turbo Gran just grinned and said, ‘I should have told you that… My little moggie, Nitro, is in fact, a sniffer cat He’s found it all in boxes that were labelled Vegemite You thought folk would pass them by and you were nearly right But Nitro found your hiding place, it didn’t take him long His whiskers each worked overtime while following the pong The boxes looked inviting but the contents made him ill For Nitro can’t stand Marmite but for Vegemite he’d kill
Copyright © 2024 Terry Flood. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs