Death by Drowning

Putting some shopping away in the scullery yesterday I found a mouse had nibbled the corner off a carton of orange juice. On closer inspection, the carton contained a dead mouse, first drowned like the Duke of Clarence in a butt of Malmsey wine, and then preserved like Nelson in a vat of brandy. The juice had thickened to the consistency of jam.

As I marmalade the mouse to rest in the garden I felt I ought to have drawn some philosophical conclusion about its aspirations and extinction but, as Marx said, "Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."