Mango Madness

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This picture was too raunchy for The Observer

Folks, my secret is: I’m an addict. There’s no cure for my craving and it’s costing me a fortune; Honey Gold Mangoes are back in season!

I first stumbled across this fruit cocaine several years ago at a little roadside stall. “Here, try this,” said the farmer, offering me a slice.  Well, my eyes rolled round in my head, I started gibbering, and minutes later I was stuffing boxes of Honey Golds into my boot as the farmer chuckled.

Later that week, I was back at the stall with a fistful of cash and a face covered in sticky mango residue.

“Pretty good aren’t they?” grinned the farmer/pusher.

“More!” I screamed, as Long Suffering Wife beeped the horn in our car to hurry me along; she was hooked too.

For a month we lived in a delirium of Mango Madness, then one day they were gone. Honey Gold cold turkey was a nightmare!  Each evening, some bland desert would be thrust under my nose and tears would fill my eyes.

Sure I was alive, but I wasn’t living.

Then last weekend, I spotted a small hand written sign on the side of the road, and twenty action packed minutes later, I was back at home tossing all the cans out of my beer fridge to make room for my precious load of golden fruit.

And the fewer people who know about this highly addictive fruit, the longer this season will last.

Let’s just keep it our little secret shall we?

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