The Easter Egg Hunt
Rupert is frightfully pleased with the fluffy yellow chicken outfit he bought on eBay. It has brought out his inner fowl. He is now making himself look perfectly ridiculous wiggling his bottom and pretending to lay Easter eggs. Miranda is so embarrassed she has taken to the prosecco. Selina, whose guestly contribution has been a re-gifted scented candle, thinks that if this is living in the country, thank God she and Marcus are still in Clapham.
Charlie has hit Jocelyn because he found the gold Lindt bunny first
Good luck to Rupert and Miranda with the moss in the lawn, about which they banged on all through supper on Saturday. Little Charlie (who is a girl) and little Peta (who is a boy) are both in tears as Mr Chicken is too scary and clucks between drinking Bloody Marys. Miranda, who has put a cut-out Easter bunny (purchased from Amazon, online shopping being a primary country occupation) behind the hedge, was up at 6am making little nests of eggs out of Rupert’s shredded bank statements. These are now artfully planted among the tulips at child level and all children have been given charming baskets fluttering with green ribbon in which to collect their little bombs of e-numbers. Charlie (who is, remember, a girl) has hit Jocelyn (who is a boy) with her basket because he found the gold Lindt bunny in the hellebores before she did. Selina gives in to the prosecco to become the over-refreshed guest wondering whether the lamb, bred by the butcher at the farm shop, possibly nurtured on Guinness and massaged by virgins at dawn, is overcooking. She saw Miranda stuffing it with her own, home-grown lovage. This is because no-one told Miranda that lovage, much of which she’s thankfully now chopped, is a vegetable garden thug and has Trumpish ambitions to take over the world. “We love it here at Bondage Farm: no ties, no beating oneself up about traffic, no dominatrix parking wardens. Happy Easter, everyone!”
There’ll Always Be an England; Social Stereotypes from the Daily Telegraph by Victoria Mather and Sue Macartney-Snape is published by Constable