Don't eat the...oh.
Many years ago, the world cooled, dinosaurs roamed the earth, and I was at still at school. During the sixth form I was a member of the school debating society which mostly involved spending an hour after lessons every Wednesday sitting in a circle scoring points off each other and eyeing up the girls but sometimes the teacher who ran it did other stuff just to shake things up, and one of his ideas was a cookery contest.
My friend Matt and I, realising that we were no cooks but wanting to enter anyway asked ourselves the question "What sort of food does everyone like?" and answered it "Jaffa Cakes!", so we bought a flan base, some tangerine jelly and some cooking chocolate and showed up to the competition with our entry: the biggest Jaffa Cake you ever saw.

One entry we were surprised to see was Darrens. Darren was the sort of person who wasn't really right for the VIth form; not stupid but not academic either, he had a native talent for technical stuff which had got him good science GCSE results but meant he struggled with the raw theory of A levels. Obviously he was one of my best friends.
Nobody expected much of him from the competition and so everyone was surprised when he turned up with a huge and exquisite chocolate cake; it was properly made with swirls of icing atop the thick, chocolate shell. The shell was almost 1/2" thickness of pure chocolate and there was more inside, plus chocolate cream. Everyone was astonished and a queue of people stood round to try it.
Matt and I wandered over and Darren stopped us. "'Ere, lads", he said. "I wouldn't try the cake."
"Why not?"
"Because the other night I went round every chemist I could find and bought every single bar of laxative chocolate in town..."
(davywavy, Thu 18 Sep 2008, 16:49, Reply)