Well, anyway…. Not that I said anything at the time, after all, it is generally agreed that such things are dangerous, even though the custard is – at best – tepid.
However, we all know that – much like other endangered species – the estate agent occupies a very precarious niche in the eco-system, so any change in the temperature of the custard is bound to have some unforeseen consequences… as well as a few foreseen ones too.
Like I said, though, I didn’t want to draw attention to the haphazard placement of the eggcups, at least not while her attention was distracted by the promise of glimpsing a celebrity in the distance… doing whatever it is that celebrities do to make them so ubiquitous, often for no obviously discernable reason.
Anyway, quite a crowd had gathered to watch the estate agent do the traditional early New Year dive into a galvanised bucket filled two-thirds of the way up with lukewarm custard. Furthermore, as I always say at times like this, you cannot argue against tradition, even when the reasons for such a tradition are long lost in the mists of history.
Some say, it dated back as far as the first ever Cliff Richards single, some say it is even older, dating back to the time of the dinosaurs, or even the days of black and white telly. All I know – however – is that the crowd all gather there in the hope that the estate agent misses the bucket completely, so that everyone can have a good old-fashioned and traditional early New Year snigger at the earnest continuation of a pointless tradition.
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