In my holy matrimony of my History notes and myself, we have had an unwelcome intruder. She’s called Maltesers and I met her in the kitchen, while chatting up other fascinating personalities such as water-in-a-jug. I tried to resist her. I thought of going out for a run and it started raining. I started on my Lit essay and the letters on my Microsoft Word document transformed themselves into small shapely Maltesers. It was fate (and a little bit of crazed hunger). I leapt out of my room and opened the fridge with Heathcliff-like vehemence.
Adultery has never been more pleasurable. I think.