Mother leaves a sour taste in the mouth...

Mother called as I was chewing a sweet. "What are you eating?" she asked. "An Opal Fruit," I responded, instantly realising that I'd made the biggest confectionary faux pas known to the prorietor of any candy store. I didn't correct myself, as to do so would have only confused mother, who hails from the era when you could call a spade a spade (bloody oldies and their inexcusably compulsive Love Thy Neighbour racism, eh?). To her, they'll always be Opal Fruits, just as the Prime Minister will always be Harold Wilson and the council the corporation (shit, I've turned into Peter Kay. I'll be on about biscuits next). They weren't mere Starbursts anyway, they were Starburst Sour Chews, which, to my mind, have more in common with Chewits than the Opal Fruits of yore. Things could have got really complicated so I'm happy with my decision, as I feel it keeps mother a few more minutes away from senility.