Posh little green things in a
jar purchased from Harrods of London. These capers bewildered my friend and I after far too many
shandy beers one evening.
Throwing these little things across the kitchen in a desirable postal district whilst speaking in horsey "Rah rah rah we're going to smash the oiks" as quoted in 'The Young Ones', seemed like the greatest thing ever.
Then the mother of said friend walked in to find mushed green bits over her kitchen, floating in the sink and squashed into the floor covering which was a rather lovely cork.
She was furious and howled at us but suddenly stopped!
In my hand i had a tub that I was trying to read but there was something obviously wrong with the label. Not that I couldn't read it due to chronic intoxication. So I put it into the leg pocket of my combats. We got sent to bed. Next morning I found the said jar. It was a half used tub of chocolate bodypaint. No wonder her mom freaked then stopped. Have never looked at Mrs. White Middle-Class Bigot in the same way.