And so the trial begins.
I fix my wig, tap my gavel on the table, ask the microwave prawn curry how it pleads.
“You refuse to answer?” I say.
The microwave prawn curry stares back at me.
Do I detect a flicker of remorse? A sliver of regret?
I can’t be sure.
“Guilty!” I say.
I feed the microwave prawn curry to my cat, Edward Jasper, who immediately vomits it back up.
I fetch a Scotch egg from the fridge.
I fix my wig, tap my gavel on the table, ask the Scotch egg how it pleads.