The menu for the staff restaurant today said: "Main Course: Beef Pie"
Pie, with beefs, as we well know, is the best pie. I was really, really looking forward to it and a small pie-tasting committee had already been formed in anticipation of this important lunch-time event. Even my co-worker (not even called Bob) agreed.
"Yes." he said.
We got there bang on opening time, to find pie gone and replaced by mysterious chicken in gravey (actual spelling). Outrage. The Pie Committee disbanded itself in indignation, several of whom went down the pub instead, where there were rumours of a nice steak and kidney. Who stole prize pie? Why, pie, why? Why life mock me so?
I hate Wee Bull.