I went to the shops and bought a Carlsbad plum. I ate the plum and threw the stone at a swan. The plumstone hit the swan on its beak. I repeated this every day for a week. Then the next morning I woke up in bed to find seven swans on the pillow beside my head. They honked and pecked and I was undone, so I went to the shops for another plum. But the plumster saw my savaged condition and damned me to hellfire and perdition. “I’ll sell no further plums to thee” he said, and that was the end of plums and me. Now I choose to eat other fruit, and non-fruit-based snacks to boot. As for the swans, they’re still in my room, where they will stay ’til I go to my tomb.