Ok, look, I’ll hold my hands up.
Alright, take your point, I’ll wash them in a minute.
It was a mistake, I knew it when I did it. No, not this, I mean it was a mistake to have them anywhere near me in the first place. I don’t know why I did it. No! Of course I know why I did this... I just don’t know how I thought I’d get away with it. NO! Not get away with this..... I mean I don’t know why I thought I’d get away with buying the children’s Easter eggs a whole week before Easter. I always do it.
I always think, “this time I’ll act like a grown up, put them away, put them out of my mind, this year I can do it”. Then this happens. I’ve done it again. And this time you’ve caught me red-handed, haven’t you? Well, alright, not red, more ‘Cadbury's Dairy Milk Chocolate’ handed. Yes I know, I said I’ll wash them in a minute. What? My face as well? Much? Where?
Of course it isn’t stealing, I bought them myself, and I haven’t given them to anyone else yet, so they’re technically still mine. I’ll replace them, of course, so no-one needs to know. Sometimes I even replace them with bigger and better eggs, so that’s good, isn’t it? When I bought that special offer bumper pack of three Easter eggs and twenty four Cadbury’s creme eggs I replaced them all before Easter. Three times. Damned expensive it was, too. I know it’s my own fault but then it’s not really, is it? Haven’t you ever heard of being a chocoholic?
The clue’s right there, in the ‘oholic’ bit- it’s not my fault, it’s an illness. I can’t help it. Like I couldn’t help it last year, when I found the egg that was supposed to be my Easter surprise hidden in the back of the wardrobe. Once I’d found it I couldn’t forget it, could I? Nagged away at me, beckoned me, it did. See? Chocoholic, can’t help it.
I was only cheating myself, ‘cos when I was given it on Easter Sunday it looked intact, only I knew I’d eaten the back bit and rewrapped it. I felt so guilty saying “Oh! what a lovely surprise”. You think I don’t feel guilty about this? Course I do. Trouble is, feeling guilty always makes me crave chocolate, to make me feel better. That was awful, that Easter, ‘cos I felt so guilty but I’d only got half as much chocolate as I should’ve had. I’m the victim here, you know. It’s going to cost a packet to replace these. I’ll get some more on Good Friday. Or on Saturday, might be better. Late on Saturday. And I’ll get a big bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk for Saturday evening, just in case......
Yes, I know, I’ve still got to wash my hands- and face- but I might as well finish this last bit first. No, it’s only a little bit, there’s not enough for both of us. Buy your own chocolate. Or why can't you wait ‘til Easter?