Skeletons in Mary Berry’s Closet

three cupcake with pink icing
Photo by Julias Torten und Törtchen on Pexels.com

Every time biscuit week rolls around, she can’t stop saying ‘It’s biscuit week, bitch’ privately to herself.

One time Paul Hollywood had some crumbs stuck in his Van Dyke and she didn’t tell him because she thought he looked adorable.

Her calligraphy is only passable.

She once mistakenly ate a jalapeño popper thinking it was a cream horn and didn’t tell anyone that she actually really liked it.

She felt like she was supposed to enjoy the film Chocolat, but didn’t. (Not enough chocolate.)

She can’t help rating the dick energy of everyone she meets.

After receiving a passive-aggressive gift of store-bought pastry, she decided not to write a thank you note.

She has a mountain of undisclosed credit card debt because of a Japanese fruit auction addiction.

She has actual (decorative) skeletons in her bedroom closet that are ‘simply too much’ for public Halloween decoration, but secretly her taste.

She is Banksy.

She once got so excited over a raspberry that she peed a little.

Her safe word is “soggy bottom.”

She has a sense that she could field dress a wild boar, but no one ever taught her how. This doesn’t freak her out as much as she feels like it should.

She had her niece set up and run a finsta dedicated wholly to animal fruit sculptures.

She is “Satoshi Nakamoto,” the fabled inventor of bitcoin.

Sometimes she worries about her loose lips sinking ships during the war. She once told her schoolmate about a handsome airman and then she never saw him again.

She ate her twin when they were in the womb and she knows it.

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