The Sandwich: #12

The Sandwich


Last night a man in the local paper said that a huge massive sandwich had crashed through his hedge, smashed one of his garden gnomes and scared his second-best pussy cat. There was a picture of him pointing at the shattered gnome and he looked very cross. The caption said he was furious, and he was bright red even though the photo was in black and white.

There was also an article about the dog mess outside the library, but that was of no particular interest to me, as I haven't got a dog and I don't read books, so I made an extra special effort not to read it.

Later on there was a thing on the evening news where the lady said that a dirty big humungous sandwich had interfered with traffic on the ring road and that there were tailbacks all the way back to the wallpaper and carpet shop. There was a red shouty man on this too, but this time he was in colour.

Then, before I went to bed at about eight o'clock, I looked at some of the pictures on the Wide World Web, because I like looking at photos of smiling ants. Some Facebook people were talking about a giant sandwich that had churned up all the flower beds in the memorial gardens. They seemed very cross and said it was probably something to do with Brexit.

Now, I can't be absolutely certain, but all these happenstances might have something to do with my sandwich. It would be a jolly old coincidence if it wasn't, so in the morning I have decided to set up an incident room to track its movements.



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