...in honour of Belgian Waffle, because truly I am humbled to win the waffle's tremendous competition with my sorry tale of Christmas woe and misery, given that there are so many sad, miserable moments swilling around, and which memories we are all going to have to celebrate again quite soon.
But I feel I must say thank you in some suitable way. And it is with this.
Some time ago, as Belgium Waffle was shoving tortoises in her fridge, she draws attention to the medieval cabbages held therein. Well, Belgium Waffle, here is my Savoy cabbage, which sits in our office fridge, and which I keep not for nostalgia purposes, but as an offensive weapon should I ever confront a burglar intent on stealing our meagre stash of Euros (incidentally kept in the office oven).
Now what think you of this beauty?
Inadvertently, Belgian Waffle may have liberated us all. In the same way that we women can now share frank discussion about vaginal discharge and nipple hair, we can now speak cabbage. Come on ladies. It is time. Stand up and be proud. Show us your rotting vegetables.