2p or not 2p?

Mrs C and I are off to see Hamlet in Stratford upon Avon tonight so my Blip has taken on a Shakespearean persona today.

We stopped for coffee this afternoon and Mrs C opened a packet of Jaffa Cakes. Our intention was to be good and only have one each but imagine our surprise when the packet was opened.

I decided to compare the size of the Jaffa Cakes with that of a 2p coin. Wow the cake has shrunk. So we had to have two each.

And here is a play to go with the occasion with a little help from AI.

ACT I, SCENE I A stately dining chamber. A luscious cake sits upon a silver platter.
LORD GASTRONOME: Lo, Gregory! The hour is late, my stomach sings A mournful ode for sugared solace sweet. Fetch forth the cake, that spongéd paradise, And let mine aching heart be comforted!
SERVANT GREGORY: My lord, it waits upon yon gilded tray, A triumph of the baker’s art and craft. But mark, my lord, its size doth much decline Since first it graced this noble board at noon.
LORD GASTRONOME: What’s this? It shrinketh? Nay, 'tis but a trick Of candle’s fickle glow upon its form. Come, plate me forth a slice most bounteous, That I may revel in its sugared bliss!
(GREGORY slices a piece and presents it. LORD GASTRONOME eyes it suspiciously.)
LORD GASTRONOME: Thou jester false! This is but half the size Of what I did envision in mine heart! What villain, thief, or cursed hand hath dared To render small this feast of kings and gods?
SERVANT GREGORY: Not I, my lord! I swear upon my soul I touched it not, nor nibbled at its crust.
LADY SUCCULENCE (aside): O fool, thy innocence doth much amuse.
LORD GASTRONOME: Perchance the night’s chill air hath made it shrink? Or wicked sprites unseen do gnaw anon?
LADY SUCCULENCE: My lord, thou dost amuse with weighty grief For such a fleeting morsel. Take thy ease. What once was large, when gazed upon anew, Oft seems but small in retrospect’s cold eye. And if thy cake, when first ‘twas seen, was grand, Yet every slice doth make it less entire.
LORD GASTRONOME: O cruel fate! To know that each delight Consumes itself to leave me but with naught!
SERVANT GREGORY: A lesson here, my lord, as oft in life: That which we love the most doth fade away With each embrace, till only crumbs remain.
LORD GASTRONOME: Enough, enough! Such talk doth sour the taste Of what remains. Bring forth a fork anon! For if this cake must vanish with the night, Then let it perish by mine own delight!
(He devours the remaining cake. Curtain falls.)