I’ve always been eager to prove the insignificance of religious significance. Truly, I’ve never proved anything of the kind in my life. Proof just slips away overnight, like some rogue ex-US ambassador or Epstein's financial advisors operating their pocket calculators for the artist formerly known as Prince Andy. Feasts, festivals and seasons come and go. Nobody cares apart from retailers and avid followers of wayward public opinion. Hot cross buns are different. This year (as usual) they’re in the shops at the same time as Easter eggs, and I’m not complaining.
So I’m on the hot cross bun diet. Two a day. I’ve been on this diet for exactly one day. It’s holding up fine. No side effects. As an added bonus sometimes you can find weird human face lookalikes in or on the buns. There’s definitely an angry, or at least perplexed, God like grimace worn by the top bun in the photo. Maybe it was the size of the knife I was brandishing. As Kevin Bridges once joked a few years ago, “God’s a wee bit out of his depth now ...” and 2026 just might do it for him.
P.S. There needs to be a “classic” British comedy film made about rival bakeries in some mythical Yorkshire village: “Top Bun.”
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