My wife says I can’t have my favourite dish round for Christmas lunch, you know I thought as much, I’d had a little hunch. She says “If I bring that blingy thing they’ll be much remorse” It’s even been suggested it may all end in divorce.

“But my love, there’s no need to get so jealous, favourite dishes are enjoyed by lots of older fella’s, and as we age we all desire something a little fruity, it doesn’t matter what you say, you know my dish is a little beauty.

I found my dish in Soho, on a market stall, the centre of attention and the sexiest of them all. I brought my little beauty back, to our little flat, my wife she shouted and she raved, “I’m not having none of that”

It was Christmas Eve and I introduced, my beautiful little dish, My wife she shouted then a few words, I swear were not in English “I’m not having your fancy piece in here, nor even any other ”we’re going to use the same trifle dish that came from my dear mother.

……………………..XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX………………………

That was good fun, but quite hard not to break away from the innuendo and call the dish “Her” or “She” My lady and I do indeed own a trifle dish that was my mum’s it will be coming out soon for its annual filling of fruityness. Apart from that one fact, it was all totally fictitious, a product of my strange imagination.

All silly words by Meadowhead Bard.