I've mentioned before that a slightly mental part of me likes to stockpile provisions just in case. This extends to my work environment - my colleagues refer to my desk as the Larder, as the drawers are stuffed with Penguins, crisps, muesli bars and other store-cupboard staples. I guess a lot of people do the same thing, although I like to take it one step further by having stock cubes, vinegar, Tabasco and lemon juice rattling around.
The thing I seem to have most of though is Batchelors Cup-A-Soup. I mean, it's disgusting - the croutons are like toaster debris, the peas and carrots like polystyrene peanuts, but I still quite like the taste and there's something vaguely comforting about a "just add water" meal.
My favourite is the minestrone - it has these little ring noodles that bob around prettily, but literally taste of nothing. That's fine though, because the rest of it is so jam-packed with MSG, they wouldn't have stood a chance anyway.
Anyway, the other day I thought to myself "I'm running low on Cup-A-Soup" (as there were only, ooh, three boxes left in the Larder) and pootled down to Tesco. They'd run out of my usual full-fat, but they did have the low-cal version which usually goes by the delightful name of Slim-A-Soup.
I was a bit flummoxed though, when I saw the front of the box said this:
"My boyfriend's just found my granny pants-a-Soup"
Turns out that Batchelors are running a competition requiring punters to submit their own weird-ass versions of FML, although of course they've dubbed it a significantly less uncouth "Cup-A-Soup Moment".
The Cup-A-Soup Moment has been defined as "what makes you reach for a Cup-A-Soup".
So in this particular case study, we may assume that the paramour (let's call them Person B) of the protagonist (let's call them Person A) has accidentally become familiar with Person A's hitherto hidden voluminous undergarments, and the subsequent humiliation suffered by Person A arising from Person B's discovery has caused Person A to decide that the only possible panacea in this troubling situation is a mug of instant soup.
And they bothered to print that.
The prize for the best one (apart from Cup-A-Soup packaging immortality) is a year's supply of Cup-A-Soup. The competition closes on 1 March 2010. I'm so entering.
From the Cup-A-Soup Wikipedia entry:
"Grammarians have argued as to the correct plural form of Cup-a-Soup. Some believe the correct form is Cups-a-Soup, whereas others contest that being a registered trademark the correct form is Cup-a-Soups."