The Lardy Crumpet

Why are there two packets of chocolate biscuits in the cupboard? asked Pliny, this afternoon.
And still no cake, he added, softly.

Tim Tams were on special, I replied. Two dollars a pack. And we bought crumpets as well.

Any lard? asked Pliny.

I forgot to look for lard. Anyway I told you it was unhealthy.

It's not as unhealthy as all that, said Pliny. I've been reading all about it. It depends which part of the pig the lard comes from. The best lard comes from the area near the kidneys and is called leaf lard. It makes very nice flaky pastry and you may be surprised to know that it has less cholesterol than the equivalent amount of butter.

Really? I said. I wonder if it would be nice on a crumpet?

Yes, said Pliny. It would.

I was joking, I said. Everyone knows it would be horrible. Why, there's even a poem about how horrible it would be, I added rashly. It's called The Lardy Crumpet, and it goes:

Your face is as long
As my grandfather's gong
Is there anything wrong
With your crumpet?

Yes, it is charred
And blackened and hard
And smothered in lard
Is my crumpet.

Is that really a poem? asked Pliny, incredulously. My grandfather's gong! Whatever does that mean?

No idea, I said. But I'm going to have a crumpet. Would you like one?