Year-long wait for dried fruit almost over

BRITAIN’S tantalising wait to get its hands on dried fruit is about to end.

Dried fruit is a delicacy beloved of all Britons, but they abstain from it during the year so that mince pies, Christmas pudding and Christmas cake will taste even more delicious.

Mother-of-two Emma Bradford said: “After twelve months of minimal dried fruit intake apart from the odd raisin, I can’t wait to get stuck in.

“Absolutely the best thing about Christmas is all the dried fruit you get to eat. I think about dried fruit constantly at work.

“Normal fruit is OK, but it lacks the driedness I crave.”

Six-year-old Julian Cook said: “Presents are good, but I prefer dried fruit. Like all kids, really.”

Teacher Tom Booker said: “I’m tempted to skip the turkey because it isn’t dried fruit. However it is dry, so that’s something.”

However food historian Stephen Malley said: “Things containing dried fruit date back to a time before anything was enjoyable.

“They hadn’t invented chocolate yet and people were so glad to have survived the year without being killed with swords that currants in pastry seemed a fabulous treat, despite being barely edible.”

He added: “I’m only joking of course. I love dried fruit!”



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Plebgate 'could go all the way to the top of nothing'

AN alleged conspiracy to unseat former chief whip Andrew Mitchell could go right to the heart of absolutely nothing, it has emerged.

Amid accusations a Downing Street policeman may have falsified pleb evidence as part of a sophisticated plot with Mitchell’s deputy John Randall, who was also the policeman’s MP, to dispose of the chief whip and, good God, are you still reading this? Are you unemployed?

Anyway, ploughing on, experts stressed it could mean a British policeman told a lie, the Sun printed the lie, the rest of the media peed their pants, Downing Street is incompetent and you are now aware of someone called John Randall.

Julian Cook, professor of things that seem important at Roehampton University, said: “Let’s say Randall watched House of Cards and decided to stage a coup by disposing of each of his 38 rivals, one by one, using a pathetic little news story.

“He must have been confident given there is nothing newspaper editors love more than something pathetic.

“After a just a few years’ time he would become prime minister as each of his enemies is destroyed with stories about plebs, train tickets and perhaps someone failing to say thank you for a lovely chocolate biscuit.

“Ah, but how to get a policeman involved in the conspiracy, you say? Perhaps offer him a bag of crisps, but tell him they are ‘magic crisps’.

“It’s either that, or he and the policeman came independently to the conclusion that Andrew Mitchell is an arse. As would most people if they had ever had the faintest idea who Andrew Mitchell was.

“As you were.”