Actual Sainsbury-delivered butternut squash. Condom packet provided for scale.

I already gave this a tweet but I’m having trouble letting it go; plus, it’s got a seasonal angle going for it, gourds being a focus of attention in this most fally and thanksgival of months.

This is what happens when you order squash over the Internet (or “t’internet,” as they call it here).  Online ordering of food- and booze-stuffs in this country is so far ahead of what’s available in Vancouver that it actually confounds time and space as you poor rudimentary creatures know it. When I am placing a Sainsbury order, it’s like watching the last few minutes of Altered States.  I am an incandescent ball of pure order-placing energy and a few hours later, boxes of delicious food and wine appear at my door.  FREE, suckas!

However, when you play with time and space in this fashion, occasionally bad things will happen.  Like, you will innocently order a butternut squash and be presented, by the blushing delivery lady, with a grotesque, throbbing fertility symbol that you need both hands to drag to the pantry.  It’s obviously an escapee a nuclear testing facility or, even more terrifying, a county fair prize table.  Covered in gouges and scrapes, it’s obviously a lover AND a fighter. Either way, I don’t know what to do with it.  Cutting it up and eating it is obviously out of the question.  I am thinking of setting up a carnival tent and putting it on display for 25P a gawp or maybe starting a sexy new cult.