Pineapples. Funny-looking things, aren't they? With their scales and their punk hairdo. They make me think of Hawaii; and I'm not a fan of tropical places. Apart from Tenby. They also remind me of a BBC do I went to once where I was offered a pina colada. I was outraged, let me tell you! I knew that kind of thing went on; but I was shocked to the core when I was propositioned so brazenly in broad daylight! When it was explained to me that it was a drink, I was a little less taken aback and moved away from the wall. But still; I prefer a nice pint of bitter.
As a journalist, I've done some research on pineapples for this piece. Some of the facts are quite incredible. If you eat an unripe pineapple, you get the trots. If you mix pineapple juice with sand, it makes a splendid cleaner for boat decks and machete blades. Del Monte began growing pineapples in Oahu in 1917. That's just after quarter past seven.
They're not my kind of fruit at all. I prefer simple, honest fruit. Give me a nice Granny Smith any day; or a Golden Delicious. If I'm feeling adventurous, I might treat myself to a Pink Lady. My mother used to say, 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away' and she was right. I used to throw one at him from my bedroom window when he cycled past to work every morning. He never came near our house.