Pies.

I sat in a coffee shop at the only available table where somebody had left a half eaten pie on a plate. Before it was whisked away I couldn’t help noticing the grey sludge inhabiting the pastry case. I’ll never buy a pie again.

http://www.weeklygripe.co.uk/a250.asp

They must have been invented to hide rotten meat or cooking disasters.

Times were hard when Mrs Figgis made goulash for hubby with leftover’s from the previous weeks leftover’s. She cut off the green bits and picked off the maggots before mixing it with gravy and potato.

‘I’m not eating this’ hubby said looking at the heap of unappetising brown gunk on his plate. He got bread and cheese instead but Mrs Figgis couldn’t bring herself to throw the gunk out so she added the left over stale bread and a sad lump of cat food and was just about to throw in some left over pastry when she had a eureka moment. She put the pastry in a dish, put the filling in the middle and put a lid on.

‘What’s this?’ Mr Figgis asked.

‘A pi….’ Starting to say ‘a pile of poo’ and stopping herself.

‘A pie?’ he takes a bite. ‘Mmmmm yummy. I like pie.’

Next day Mrs Figgis serves pie again, but leftover baked beans and stale cheese are added to the mixture. Hubby is pleasantly surprised when he takes a bite. ‘It’s different!’ he exclaims.

Now she’s on a roll. Meat pie, potato pie, mince and onion, cheese and onion, jam, lumpy custard…. Food manufacturers catch on and realise they can throw eyeballs, tails and old abscesses and not worry too much if the odd rat gets included in the mixture.

Nowadays it is easy to hide a tracking device in a pie and follow someone’s movements until nature takes its course, obviously their last movement is recorded at their last movement…so to speak.