I used to quite like a programme called 'This Morning With Richard, Not Judy' in which there was a curious orange. The orange was rather cynical, much like myself, and therefore I insist that if anyone decides to liken me to a fruit in the future I am likened to a curious orange. The only problem being that I do not have banana fingers.
PS. Today I was forced to write poems about blue strawberries and sweaty socks. I feel emotionally violated.