A silver toast rack, masquerading as a concerned member of Parliament, has revealed today that it’s privately shitting itself over the prospect of actually having to do something, as opposed to just mouthing off all the time, trying to bully others to do things.
”It is a little bit rum when it comes to a pass of this nature,” the toast rack confessed, while waiting to be interviewed again so it could mouth off again about what the other items of tableware should be doing.
Proposals it has neither the responsibility for nor the intention of having accountability for.
”Or, as we say in our humble dwelling, Et ubera mea tenere quae nutrire possit infantulum.”
And it seems the static rack has reason to furrow its polished brow, as various silver spoon holders, it believed to be in a position dictating the placements of the knives and forks, serviettes and saucers, are suddenly disappearing off the national tablecloth.
”Numerous of the spoons have been swept off the setting in the last twenty four hours. This is of deep concern to all British patriots and the tax dodging, human hating hedge funds, which are my actual constituency,” the toast rack said,
“if the ladles aren’t there to do the heavy lifting and convince all the common diners they should go hungry whilst their betters feast, then I may actually have to exceed the functions of my design. This will not be an uplifting experience, unlike four million people using food banks.”
People may begin to examine where the bread you hold in your rack comes from?
”Precisely. I am not made for the wet work of smashing democratic standards to shards and fleecing the country senseless, after having brainwashed a sufficient majority with racist nationalism to the degree their consciences and brains disengage, I am not a knife. I am merely a piece on the board with limited mobility, and a lot of polish, that people are dazzled by,
”Ego sum panis tosti eculeo. Et vis ad tenendum meo infectum nutrix.“