“You probably don't want to eat one of those if I'm honest,” said Ollie. “Flug's taste in confection tends to be a bit on the incendiary side. I suspect you'd be much better off, and far healthier if you had a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.”
“I think you may be right,” said Deirdre, looking at the orange, sticky, and fluffy item that, in all probability, may well have been in Flug's pocket for a month or two.
At least it was one of his, though. They were even worse if they came out of someone else's clothes. If he swapped sweets with the likes of Redemption Plinth, a forest dwelling hermity type who never washed, had an inch thick layer of dirt covering his skin, and kept his sweetie stash down his pants to stop the squirrels pinching them, you literally could be ingesting anything.
“Fl
