Dinner time

Daddy Pig had offered to make dinner, after Mummy Pig had told him she was going to lose her fucking shit if she had to waste one more hour of her life preparing a meal which nobody was going to eat.

“Don’t worry, Mummy Pig,” said Daddy Pig. “I will make tea tonight. Come on, Peppa. Come on, George. You can come and watch. We will make a lovely dinner with lots of lovely vegetables.”

Mummy Pig followed them into the kitchen as Peppa and George watched in horror, having never actually seen a vegetable that wasn’t chopped into atom-sized fragments and concealed under fifteen layers of tomato ketchup.

“Urrrggggh, what’s THAT?” asked Peppa in horror, pointing at a courgette.

“Waaaaaaaaaaah, DINE-SAUR!” wailed George, as a carrot rolled across the table towards him.

“It’s not a fucking dinosaur, it’s a fucking carrot,” said Mummy Pig, as she left the kitchen and closed the door in relief behind her. Daddy Pig could be heard bemusedly crying “But these are lovely vegetables. Why don’t you want your lovely vegetables?”, inciting even more hysteria from her two children.

“Lovely vegetables, my arse,” said Mummy Pig, pouring herself a triple gin and settling down on the sofa with this week’s copy of Heat magazine. “That man really does not know the first thing about parenting.”

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