Ohhh dear, where to start?
Once upon a time in a small house not far from Holmfirth a young man (it was a long time ago) decided to make a chilli. He knew there was a large (in fact one could say commercial sized) bag of chilli powder in the top cupboard in the kitchen, so reached up to retrieve it. Unknown to the poor chap, the evil kitchen elves had sabotaged the shelf, cracking the wood veneer, and leaving a sharp, hidden edge. As the plastic bag of "napalm strength, extra hot chilli powder" was pulled towards the front of the cupboard, this hidden blade neatly sliced open the bottom of the bag. As the poor unsuspecting victim looked up at the shelf, 2 kg of powdered agony showered down on his face.
Our hero screamed - which was not a good idea, as now the little grains of pain were in his throat as well as his eyes, nose and everywhere else. He dragged himself out of the expanding cloud of powder and ran blindly for the door, careening off various hard and pointed surfaces at every step. The neighbours, alerted no doubt by the gentle burbles of agony as his lungs dissolved, found him lying on the lawn, frantically trying to scrape his face off on the wet grass. Springing into action, they called an ambulance for the poor fool, and he was shortly (for this was before the time of pandemics and swinging cuts to the health service) delivered to the tender mercies of the local A&E department... undoubtedly goodly folks to a one, but would it have killed the bastards to laugh a little more quietly, and to at least be somewhat more discreet when ringing their comrades in other departments to come look at the idiot with the glowing face and lungs of fire.
The moral of this tale, dear reader is even in times of pandemics, plagues and panic buying...... do not hoard chilli powder!!!!
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