These are not the biscuits I expected to see when I opened the pack. Every one cracked and broken. A proper first world problem that can't be blamed on European relations, pandemics, the weather or the oppression suffered by our beloved and baffled country. It can't be blamed on the political left's loss of meaningful traction and their shifting policy positions or the unhealthy and one side economic measures and targets we might use to rate our successes and failures. Neither is it anything do with the cultural bankruptcy that produces hour upon our of meaningless streams of TV and digital entertainment focused on the pointless activities and relationships of talentless people I just can't seem to care about. The corrupt press and media moguls have nothing to do with these biscuits either despite their heavy handed influence on all levels of society. I think that these poor biscuits simply suffered some mishap in the warehouse or en route to the store where I bought them. It's as simple as that. They were perfect when they left the factory.
Here's a tyre that will soon be a drum.
And here's the Discovery, snowed in at Dundee with the V&A behind, looking for all the world as if she was back in Antarctica a hundred of more years ago. A time warp back to some golden age of exploration and tragedy.