So where are the bloody cocktails?

Last week I was taking the piss out of the boyfriend when we found three separate boxes of cocktail sticks in his kitchen. I must now make a shame-faced confession and admit to having two boxes of my own. I just found one nestling inside an old cheese grater. Or should that be nesting? Perhaps it spawned there from a single stray cocktail stick, or a plastic cocktail-stick-box-fragment.

The irony is that he has never used his, and I only recall using mine twice, once for gluing cat face‘s face on, and later as a cable needle for yet another pair of some ill-fated socks.

I was thinking that handy-for-tiny-craft sticks or cheese-and-pineapple sticks didn’t really have a ring to them but then I thought


Think about it. Cocktail sticks are far more often used for skewering olives and lumps of cheese than they are in cocktails… and when they are, they’re just as likely to be holding an olive or a tiny wee onion than they are something sweet. There’s an accent in the title, which automatically means shops could charge twice as much for them; manufacturers could produce the same sticks, label them up as scrapbooking tools and charge twice as much again. You could get different qualities – standard, value (now with extra splinters), and first class (hand polished to a subtle sheen).

However, it wouldn’t have cock in the name, and so I don’t think this will ever catch on. Shame.

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