By: Blonde Two
I have a recipe for you. I don’t really recommend that you try it but in the (very unlikely) occurrence of you needing to, here it is;
One very keen Blonde (suitably matured)
23 best laid plans (mice and men optional)
4 different route options (soaked in rain for six hours)
A pinch of atrocious weather (preferably from the South West)
A splash of over eager bravado (expensive but worth every penny)
A teaspoon of Blonde flavour (available soon from a Dartmoor cafe near you)
20 Jelly Babies (pick out the Yellows first)
Cook all of this up in a large quandary for around 48 hours. When the consistency of the Blonde is similar to soggy jelly and she is just about to burst at the seams, make a decision. Take the plans and route options out of the quandary and put them back into a purple folder. The remaining broth should taste about the same as anything else that your mother said was “good for you”.
Nom, yom, slurp, burp … “What is that?” I hear you say. That, my dear Blondees and Blondettes is the sound of a Blonde (who is not going to Dartmoor today) eating her words.