Well then, if the season of your marmalade indifference turns into a Thursday of unspoken kitchen utensil misuse, then who am I to call into question your lack of under-utilised Strawberry Flavoured Assistant Bank Managers?
It may - of course - seem, at first sight, one of those questions with a too obvious answer*. But sometimes these things are not quite as straightforward as they seem, at least at first glance. That is why it is always worthwhile to look both ways when you are poised to get astride your naked lady from the cake shop.
As you may not know, the Small Rotating Device shop in the village has been taken over by a newcomer to the village, who intends to turn it into different kind of shop.
The new owner of the shop, Miss Deplorable Moistgusset, has promised those many concerned villagers that she will, however, meet all the village's Small Rotating Device needs. As well, she intends to offer a brand new Small Rotating Device service and repair facility - something the village has needed for a long time. We have not had such a thing since the sad death of old 'Mad' Ginbreath Widdlepants, our original local Small Rotating Device repairman, at the gentle age of 104 while receiving the non-too-tender ministrations of Moll Splendidthighs in a roadside ditch early on Easter Sunday morning in 1987.
So, while this new service and repair facility is no doubt reassuring there is still some trepidation in the village as to what else Miss Moistgusset intends to do with the shop. For example, there is still a - well-justified in my view - mortal fear in the village of the spread of Estate Agents into rural areas, despite the eradication program that does keep their numbers down to manageable levels. Luckily, we haven’t had an outbreak of Estate Agents in the village since 1979, when we managed to immolate the last remaining estate agent in the village in the traditional wicker man ceremony.
*In this case, Norman the arc-welding budgerigar, of course.