Sofa-flavoured Ice Cream, anyone?

Ok, so I went out and got my 2 bountiful bars of Bounty ice cream, talked to and caressed them on my way back. Took my trainers off, dashed the keys somewhere, curled up on the sofa and got down to business.

Tore open the wrapper, admiring its milk-chocolate frame for a few moments and the sheer genius of its capability to hold me captive (soon, very soon, we shall be one).


How I Normally Have It...

...well, I tend to eat mine in layers - First, I'll nibble off all the chocolate to expose the ice cream, and then I'll eat the ice cream. That way, it feels like I'm having two desserts (sad, aren't I?)

Anyway, so I'm doing my sumptuous 'peel-off-and-eat-the-choccie-bits-first' ritual, only to find that the ice cream's quite melted inside. I'm none too pleased with this culinary hiccup of a revelation as it now means the ice cream won't hold once the chocolate gives way. Grrrr.

Feeling a bit robbed of the opportunity to savour the moment - my moment - I feel like going back to the shop to complain, but how silly will that make me look? Upset over a £1.10 Bounty bar? They might call the police and have me arrested for being a twat.

And so, being the eternal optimist that I am, I carry on, my fingers now getting messy (but gloriously so).

I'm watching Scrubs on TV - someone's just said something funny (haha)...


...the next thing I know, half of the ice cream's on the frikkin sofa...

Oh shit... f*ck, f*ck, f*ck...


Now... what do you think I did?


Erm... let's just say I've always been a bit 'experimental' with my food ;-)