Smoked salmon quiche
One fine day in a river not a million miles away, a contrary salmon, undaunted by the traffic going the other way, was laid on his back happily drifting downstream. Suddenly he spotted a beautiful creamy cheese (hazardously) sunbathing on the riverbank.
"Well helloooo," said the salmon to the ricotta.
"Stay away from her!" said a voice from up a tree.
"Oh stop being a lemon!" shouted the salmon, but the voice could not, for it was a lemon.
Just then a bunch of mean-looking spinach sashayed onto the bank.
"Ricotta lotta nerve showing your stalks round here," said the salmon in his best Clint Eastwood voice and the spinach, sensing trouble, wilted.
But trouble was elsewhere. Suddenly 2 eggs scrambled out of the undergrowth brandishing a rope and proceeded to bind them all together. The salmon was apoplectic, (which is a big word for a salmon).
"Just what I eggspect from a couple of yella bellies! Omelette us go!"
But there they were, bound together and though the salmon objected to begin with, he soon realised he could kiss his beloved whenever he liked. So he did and though the lemon voiced his concerns it turned out he just wanted to join in. Dirty lemon.
Crumbs, binding us all together.
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