Toffee Pennies
The Toffee Pennies were huddled together in their tin trench at Christmas time, ready to go over the top. The swarthy face of General Ferrero-Rocher appeared at the door, smoking a fat cigar.
"Come on chaps, one last push," he exhorted, then exited hastily to somewhere safe, warm, well-stocked with vintage port and far, far away from the front line.
The Pennies fixed their bayonets. At the pheep of a whistle they advanced, charging at the soft bellies of the Lebkuchen. They didn't get very far before they were all, to a man, blown hundreds of feet into the air.
Today you can still find thousands of tiny shards of toffee scattered across those far-flung fields.
B.R. 23/12/2017
"Come on chaps, one last push," he exhorted, then exited hastily to somewhere safe, warm, well-stocked with vintage port and far, far away from the front line.
The Pennies fixed their bayonets. At the pheep of a whistle they advanced, charging at the soft bellies of the Lebkuchen. They didn't get very far before they were all, to a man, blown hundreds of feet into the air.
Today you can still find thousands of tiny shards of toffee scattered across those far-flung fields.
B.R. 23/12/2017
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