The Great Christmas Cake Heist

I applaud Waitrose for using the word Christmas in their packaging.

 
I was in Waitrose at the weekend gliding through the aisles with gay abandon, the maid was at home waiting in for a delivery, which was a good thing, I didn't want her breathing down my neck, tutting at the price of champagne. I stopped at a display of Christmas cakes I found one I liked the look of, it was small and unfussy but as I reached out to take it, another hand was quicker, that hand belonged to a no-nonsense type of woman, she was wearing a trilby hat and a green wax jacket, she probably has a career managing farmhands, because it was the last of that cake I asked a passing menial* if she had another in the back, she took something out of her pocket and began to type and then apologised for not having any more in until Monday.  

As I rounded the corner, I saw her again, the trilby woman deliberating over a selection of cheeses at the deli counter, her trolley left unattended besides the artisan breads and there inside the trolley was the cake, it didn't look anything special on the shelf but seeing it in that woman's trolley it took on a rosy glow, I had to have it, a quick furtive glance in her direction and the cake and I hot-footed it to the tills, chuckling all the way.

I was told via text message by a know-it-all friend of mine, that you don't cut Christmas cake like that, but he didn't explain why. To be honest I couldn't care less.

*Because Waitrose is considered to be a better class supermarket I call the shop assistants who work there menials, it keeps them grounded and stops them from getting ideas above their station.