I do fear for the state of our society sometimes. Take, for instance, the cupcake shop that is opening up the road from my office this weekend. I can't conceive what a world must be like for someone to put together a feasible business plan for a high street-based outlet aimed solely at selling people cupcakes.
Can cupcakes really be that high on the list of must-buy comestibles such that it could sustain someone's livelihood? By all means branch out from your regular bakery work, if sticking eyes and a happy little mouth on a denuded gingerbread man or forcefeeding strawberry jam to rolls before tossing them into searing oil (it's like dough-based foie gras) isn't floating your creative boat.
I just as much fear for myself - not because I am tempted to venture into this temple to frosted trophies for the middle class, but rather because I cannot possibly go near. The signage and menu inside has been printed almost exclusively in Comic Sans, and as a hideous font snob I couldn't live with myself if I went near it. It's like my kryptonite. We've all got our thing, right?
So there we have reached an impasse - no doubt the fervent butterscotch-loving masses who will flock to Let Them Eat Cupcakes (the outside sign hasn't gone up yet, I may have to register the name) will scorn my dearth of whimsy, and I will remain perplexed by the whole enterprise. From a distance, at least. I'm going to have to start crossing the road when I walk past.
19 minutes ago