Thorntons plc want to be the chocolate McDonalds of the UK. That's why they're easing out their best franchisers and pumping up the sick-choc Cafe Thorntons sites. Look out for more furred-up arteries, bloated bellies and filled teeth, as Thorntons plc enjoy another bumper year. Ironic that here in Stoke, the ceramic industry sinks lower and lower into the crap.
On the subject of sinking into the crap: Come on down, Mike Thornton with your two faces flapping like punctured falsies, as you trudge sadly between ivory towers, dragging behind you that tired, old OBE charity status. Wow! Now there's a man who should surely command respect wherever he goes? Always a welcome at any Lodge, one might think?
Er, well, not really. No, because was it not the same gent who - when caught out in a sneaky bit of old-boy slander to Bill Cash M.P., pointed to an old woman - manager of your Derby shops and blamed her? And did you or did you not get your poor old factory boilerman - John Fred Boultbee to concoct some hideous story of how he was the one reponsible for Thorntons theft of this work, by 'winning' some non-existent staff competition? Tut-tut, you'll be asking him to be your roadie next, so he can take the rap for smuggling in an eight of resin. Ho ho.
And isn't it true, Mr Thornton, that you hid under your desk when a certain angry bloke from Stoke came up to your factory a few months back? Good Heavens, where's your backbone, man? Why don't you ask our Prime Minister to give you his vote of confidence? Ahem, for what that's worth these days!
Now, Michael, I wonder if you've considered handing back your OBE? Let's face it, you must by now have become quite an embarrassment to HRH. After all, it ain't so hip these days to gallop around getting off on watching a fox being ripped to pieces. And let's face it, anyone who farts that loudly about their own charity work surely has something to hide behind all that phoney benevolence.
It is understandable that Thorntons' factory serfs would sell their own grandmothers in order to keep their shit-choc jobs for another year. Well, no shame on them I suppose, Mike; they need to pay the rent. But I understand you're big on the Nature bit? Keen on the old fox hunting, isn't it? Churning up the Cheltenham turf of a frosty Sunday morning, are we, Michael?
Of course, jokes apart, you know that is not truly Donald McRonald, but your old friend Ed. And the only reason I settle for posting off bitchy emails is that you're not man enough to meet me face-to-face and hammer out what for you must be a very embarassing bit of filching.
See you soon.