Sweet-toothed turncoat strikes

No crib for a... sausage roll

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At the tender age of 18 months, Jack has become a turncoat.

You can’t fail to have noticed the outrageous deals that are available on tubs of sweets in the run up to Christmas.

One supermarket is knocking them out at £4 per tin.

I did warn my wife that by buying them early, she was forcing sugary temptation under the nose of a weak man.

Craftily, I prized open the tin and sneakily snuck a few out, disposing of the wrappers in other people’s bins.

Being the caring sort, I’d share some with the boy wonder (well it’s a cost effective way of off-loading the coconut ones).

Cue lots of ‘nudge, nudge, wink, wink…don’t tell your mother’.

Then he blew it.

As the cupboard door swung open, he rushed over and started pointing to the tin, expectantly licking his lips.

I don’t know who felt more betrayed – my wife, me or Jack when the door was slammed shut.