Today my apple was a gormless twat called Fisty Bumsworth. His hobbies included working for Southeastern Trains, making sure your train breaks down when it’s raining and you are only wearing a T-shirt and making you stand in the rain and stare at the nice dry seats on the broken down train rather than let you in. His last words were, “I apologise for the delay.” to which I replied, “I couldn’t care less if you are sorry this is happening or not, why don’t you tell me what’s gone wrong, what you are doing about it and how long that is going to take, you irritating little fruit bastard?!?!” He tasted like someone who you should keep hitting in the face until they ask you, “Why are you hitting me in the face?” At which point you should smile and simply say, “I am sorry for the inconvenience this is causing.” and then continue to say nothing for the next ten minutes whilst you beat their face into a pulpy mess. This wasn’t what I was expecting him to taste like as he was an apple.

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