I Need a Fag Break

I asked the Wretched One what she might like for luncheon.
She gave out a hacking cough, a splutter, and a moan.
(To be frank, the Kindly Mister and I think she's milking it).

Deciding that I would take a leaf out of Paddington's book, I made
her a marmalade sandwich, assuming I'd be given the crusts.
Foolishly I turned a way for a second or two and she ate the whole 
bally thing.

I'm not amused.