Right, listen up you lot, let me tell you somethin’ about this dodgy mangosteen history, yeah, absolute fruit-based fairy tale this one. Apparently, back around 1850, Queen Victoria, yeah, old frosty knickers herself, heard about this fruit from over ‘ere in Southeast Asia, all juicy and exotic like, and reckoned she wanted a go. Didn’t fancy a pineapple, didn’t want a mango, papaya, nah, she’s got her royal bloomers in a twist over a mangosteen, of all things. The “queen of fruits” they used to call it. What a hefty load of cobblers. Bit of purple fruit, white mush inside, tastes alright, but hardly worth a diplomatic mission is it?

 

And get this, the story goes that she was so desperate for a nibble of this little purple marvel that she offered some big-shot reward, knighthood or a bag of gold or some such nonsense, to anyone who could bring her one back fresh. Fresh! This is Victorian times we’re talkin’ about, no bloody DHL, no FedEx, no Aldi's freezer section. What’s she thinkin’? Sendin’ some poor sailor off in a wooden boat with a basket of fruit, expectin’ it to survive a months-long voyage with no refrigeration, only wrapped in horse sh*t to preserve it like it’s clingfilm from Waitrose. Madness.

 

No one’s got any proof she actually said it, mind you. Just one of them pub stories blokes tell after three pints when they’re tryin’ to sound clever about fruit. Probably started by some geezer in a Bangkok bar with a half-eaten mangosteen in one hand and a go-go tart in the other’, “Did you know, mate…” Meanwhile, Queen Vic’s wuz sittin’ back in Buckingham Palace wonderin’ what’s for tea, not plannin’ tropical fruit expeditions like some Victorian Indiana Jones. So Queen Victoria weren’t sendin’ out battleships for fruit salads. 

 

That’s the problem with people these days, hear a nice story about a royal and suddenly they’re all David bloody Attenborough. So yeah, good fruit, nice bite, decent on a hot day, but let’s not rewrite history over it, alright. Mangosteens, tasty, yes. Life changing? Only if you’ve never had three scoops of chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce before.

20 minutes ago, Lewie London said:

Right, listen up you lot, let me tell you somethin’ about this dodgy mangosteen history, yeah, absolute fruit-based fairy tale this one. Apparently, back around 1850, Queen Victoria, yeah, old frosty knickers herself, heard about this fruit from over ‘ere in Southeast Asia, all juicy and exotic like, and reckoned she wanted a go. Didn’t fancy a pineapple, didn’t want a mango, papaya, nah, she’s got her royal bloomers in a twist over a mangosteen, of all things. The “queen of fruits” they used to call it. What a hefty load of cobblers. Bit of purple fruit, white mush inside, tastes alright, but hardly worth a diplomatic mission is it?

 

And get this, the story goes that she was so desperate for a nibble of this little purple marvel that she offered some big-shot reward, knighthood or a bag of gold or some such nonsense, to anyone who could bring her one back fresh. Fresh! This is Victorian times we’re talkin’ about, no bloody DHL, no FedEx, no Aldi's freezer section. What’s she thinkin’? Sendin’ some poor sailor off in a wooden boat with a basket of fruit, expectin’ it to survive a months-long voyage with no refrigeration, only wrapped in horse sh*t to preserve it like it’s clingfilm from Waitrose. Madness.

 

No one’s got any proof she actually said it, mind you. Just one of them pub stories blokes tell after three pints when they’re tryin’ to sound clever about fruit. Probably started by some geezer in a Bangkok bar with a half-eaten mangosteen in one hand and a go-go tart in the other’, “Did you know, mate…” Meanwhile, Queen Vic’s wuz sittin’ back in Buckingham Palace wonderin’ what’s for tea, not plannin’ tropical fruit expeditions like some Victorian Indiana Jones. So Queen Victoria weren’t sendin’ out battleships for fruit salads. 

 

That’s the problem with people these days, hear a nice story about a royal and suddenly they’re all David bloody Attenborough. So yeah, good fruit, nice bite, decent on a hot day, but let’s not rewrite history over it, alright. Mangosteens, tasty, yes. Life changing? Only if you’ve never had three scoops of chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce before.

Let's hear what Neville has to say.

A pleasant read, but not up to usual standards... felt a bit forced this time.
Or perhaps I just didn't like my choice of tea this morning; an English Breakfast blend from the Vieng Joom On tea house.

Looking forward to tomorrow's tale. 🙂

Never fails to give me a chuckle!

1 hour ago, Lewie London said:

Right, listen up you lot, let me tell you somethin’ about this dodgy mangosteen history, yeah, absolute fruit-based fairy tale this one. Apparently, back around 1850, Queen Victoria, yeah, old frosty knickers herself, heard about this fruit from over ‘ere in Southeast Asia, all juicy and exotic like, and reckoned she wanted a go. Didn’t fancy a pineapple, didn’t want a mango, papaya, nah, she’s got her royal bloomers in a twist over a mangosteen, of all things. The “queen of fruits” they used to call it. What a hefty load of cobblers. Bit of purple fruit, white mush inside, tastes alright, but hardly worth a diplomatic mission is it?

 

And get this, the story goes that she was so desperate for a nibble of this little purple marvel that she offered some big-shot reward, knighthood or a bag of gold or some such nonsense, to anyone who could bring her one back fresh. Fresh! This is Victorian times we’re talkin’ about, no bloody DHL, no FedEx, no Aldi's freezer section. What’s she thinkin’? Sendin’ some poor sailor off in a wooden boat with a basket of fruit, expectin’ it to survive a months-long voyage with no refrigeration, only wrapped in horse sh*t to preserve it like it’s clingfilm from Waitrose. Madness.

 

No one’s got any proof she actually said it, mind you. Just one of them pub stories blokes tell after three pints when they’re tryin’ to sound clever about fruit. Probably started by some geezer in a Bangkok bar with a half-eaten mangosteen in one hand and a go-go tart in the other’, “Did you know, mate…” Meanwhile, Queen Vic’s wuz sittin’ back in Buckingham Palace wonderin’ what’s for tea, not plannin’ tropical fruit expeditions like some Victorian Indiana Jones. So Queen Victoria weren’t sendin’ out battleships for fruit salads. 

 

That’s the problem with people these days, hear a nice story about a royal and suddenly they’re all David bloody Attenborough. So yeah, good fruit, nice bite, decent on a hot day, but let’s not rewrite history over it, alright. Mangosteens, tasty, yes. Life changing? Only if you’ve never had three scoops of chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce before.

A really nice story of a talented writer in his own distinctive style. Thank you ❤️