Oh my gosh we're back here again. I thought I might have more than a week off before I took on another of these very silly posts. But here we are, I'm talking to myself and pretending to be another goblin, and you're here reading it. You're an enabler now. You're enabling.
Mandy: Tarquin St. Teabags, great to have you here
Tarquin: What ho, pip, it's splendid to be here with you young Mandy
Mandy: Thanks, can I call you Tarquin?
Tarquin: Well normally I wouldn't consider it proper for a young lady to be so overly familiar, but I'll allow it in this case. I like the cut of your jib!
Mandy: OK... so we're finding out a bit more about all of our goblin friends, can I ask where you live?
Tarquin: Of course! It's well know that the St. Teabags family residence is a very refined bin in Kensington. Lady Bunions and I are neighbours.
Mandy: Sounds... fancy? Our readers are so keen to find out more about what the goblins gobble. Could you tell us what your favourite foods are?
Tarquin: Jolly hockeysticks! I am wholly humbled by your interest in such matters. I'm partial to a serving of finest Mongolian Caviar, and the odd golf ball on the side. It truly is such a delicacy, I implore you to try it.
Mandy: Any food you try to avoid?
Tarquin: I simply cannot abide Microwave Dinners. Ghastly!
Mandy: I like to finish up by asking if you have any life lessons to share?
Tarquin: Well, as we all know, Manners Maketh Man. What you might not have heard however, is that Gobblin' Gobbleth Goblins. Bear that in mind.
There. I wrote that and you read the whole thing. You're allowing this to happen.