As you can see, I’ve just de-bagged my husband’s cobnuts. What am I going to do with them, you ask? I thought I’d wash them gently in cold water then smash them open with a meat mallet. (We don’t possess a nutcracker, unfortunately, which would have made the whole thing a lot less messy.)
Even I don’t have the strength to carry this lame double entendre any further. Suffice to say, I’ve never had a cobnut – a Kentish speciality – in my life, so I’ll get back to you on what they taste like. (‘Like testicles!’ Now that really would be the supreme irony).
I think I’ve blown my chances of Pampers ever sponsoring this blog.
Not waving but ironing 