I cooked lasagne. I cooked rhubarb crumble. I made custard.
I ate all the lasagne. All of it. Uuuurp. I ate about half the crumble, and some of the custard.
Now the stepson's just come in from work. I said to him "There's rhubarb crumble and custard in the kitchen."
"I'm on a diet," he says, "not for me."
So now, there's all this crumble-and-custard sat there calling out "heeeelp meeeee" from the kitchen. I'm replete, stuffed, sated, already done the whole greedy-fat-bastard act already once tonight. It's a quarter past one in the morning and I should really go to bed.
Oh dear. Oh dearie me.