Mr Git enjoys a suck on his mug of tepid tea while hiding behind a vinegar bottle.  Later he will be spotted in the cake shop wasting his tiny pension on cream buns to offer the district nurse when she comes round to change his leg bag.

The one called Purple Johnny stands proudly at the bar in Wetherspoons complete  with erect nipple. 

 

Long, long ago in the 19teen 70's stuff like this was drunken in a northwest London suburb. Planes flew overhead and Jaffa Cakes were consumed with rice pudding.

A renagade pensioneer stocks up with toilet paper and cake.  Cake, cake, cake and cake !!  It's going to be a long, dark winter and woe betide anyone over the age of 6ixty 5ive who is without cake when the social worker calls.

This is a good example of what can happen when a negg, mashed spuds and green beans are left alone in a kitchen. Yes. You've guessed correctly. Bloody epicurian chaos and more pots and pans to be cleaned by the funny little dwarves that lead you out of the fridge in the first place. 

This is of course is a cross section of the mighty swordfish.  It must not be confused with the tiny seahorse which is a completely different kettle.  It was enabled gastric entry with the aid of a green and red salad. 

This filthy little kipper from the wrong end of town has been executed by electecution and made to become tea with a load of salad stuff.  Serves her right for being a fishhead.  Everything has its time and everything ends.