Cup Of Tea?

Entry by: KMaidmarion

23rd January 2015
Battle Lines

The Earl of Grey sat on the shelf and took stock of his regiment. Rows upon rows of tea lined the shopping aisle. Most stood to attention in their various rank and uniform, whilst others let their company down, as they stood at ease or rested precariously on one another.

Did he and his comrades have what it took to win the battle for the accolade of Britain's favourite drink? Clearing his throat, Grey felt reassured. He hadn't lost his distinctive taste. He was exactly what was printed on the back of his jacket - a blend of distinctive citrus tones and an aroma derived from extracted, bergamot orange. Grey knew he was popular, but what of the others..?

Miss Chamomile for instance. He really wasn't sure she had any fight in her. She was such a pacifist - always harping on about calm and peace. She was enough to put anyone to sleep. And that chap Green. Would he turn puce at the thought of the battle ahead? And wasn't he known for eradicating toxins, which meant they couldn't fight dirty with some toxic warfare. He could rely on Nettle, Grey realised. He had a real sting in his tail and would be a great defender of the cause. And perhaps Miss Dandelion, over there. She was sure to have the enemy wetting their beds in fear and of course - that Fennel fella...he certainly had the digestion for a fight. Grey could smell that a mile off.

But what of the enemy? the Earl of Grey observed the coffee brigade now. They had drawn their battle lines on the other side of the aisle. The one relaxing confidently in cap and chinos, for instance - was he battle fit? Or, as Grey suspected, was he just a lot of puff and wind, with no real substance at all. And the Latte woman? Hmm, well she couldn't survive without her Skinny mate by her side. So perhaps his regiment stood a chance after all. He was beginning to feel confident when he caught sight of the nifty Expresso who was flexing his caffeinated muscles. Now, he really was the big guns. What chance did Grey and his comrades stand against him? He was well aware of what a good dose of caffeine could do. That stuff was enough to turn anyone into a fighting machine.

Grey began to fidget - the worry starting to get to him, when a trolley rolled past and he caught the winking eye of the Old English Breakfast, who was sitting on top of his, soon to be owner's, shopping. Of course...How could he have forgotten him? Wasn't he their strong arm? That Expresso guy might be completely hyper, but he could only ever be short lived. He'd be flat on his back in express time. Not like the good Old English. He had staying power. One could always count on him in a crisis. He really was worrying for nothing, Grey decided. After all, what was the regiment's motto?


Well, Grey thought, he'd jolly well do just that. It was time to take some of his own medicine.