Two nights ago, I had the most surreal dream. I was being forced by jackbooted thugs to watch executions. Of fruit. First came the tomato. Guillotined. Then the banana. Similarly guillotined, lengthwise. And I remember feeling horrified in the dream. And that’s about all I remember.
I’m not even going to try to psychoanalyse any of that. I’m just going to blame random residual guilt from throwing away a banana that may or may not have been too ripe to eat. Sorry, Mr or Ms Banana.