Eating is a man-made emergency exit from a productivity impasse. Food exists to fill the hole where ideas should be. In fact, according to Wikipedia, ideas are KitKat-shaped*. Have a block? Have a KitKat. Two – no – four delicious fingers to plug the yawning chasm of inspirationlessness.**
But enough of this Wordsworthian nonsense. The urge to down the fridge in one is a very common urge for the flancer. Because inside every flancer there is a feeder gene. And inside every flancer cupboard is a family pack of KitKats. And inside every family pack of KitKats is quite often nothing as you ate four of the damn things last night because you were clean out of Jaffa Cakes due to Monday afternoon’s deadline crisis.
‘I really must finish this hideous feature because if not EDITOR-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED will execute a premiership spazz-out down my mobile…
But first I will have a Jaffa Cake.’
‘No, I’ll just –’
– Jaffa Cake.
‘No. Its best if –’
– Jaffa Cake.
The flancer – whose workspace wastepaper bin permanently resembles Cadbury’s smoking area -finds it impossible to work, knowing that there is even a singular uneaten chocolate item anywhere in the house – nay – postal district. It’s like being in a quiet room with someone and hearing an inexplicable clicking sound that the other person can’t hear but is driving you nuts. You have to know what that clicking is!
Can’t you hear it?! Pause…’there! No?’ …‘There!’
At this point the other person is so bored of this nonsense they suggest you have an ear problem/pretend they can/leave. Whereas you are convinced it’s them surreptitiously unwrapping a KitKat. Bastards!
Remember that late 80s TV show You Bet? It was hosted by gurning, smarm-peddler, Bruce Forsyth (Sir) and showcased kids being lauded for their pointless ability to identify what 258 different car doors sounded like when slammed shut. Nowadays they’d be stuck straight on the Autism register.
Hmm. Momentum has been somewhat lost. …Ooh! KitKat Time! Woop!
*This is more than definitely a total fabrication.
** Never mind the Greek economy, the burning question everyone should be attempting to solve is: how can we force Rowntree’s of York to make a four-finger KatKat Chunky?