“This is by far the best prawn sandwich we have ever produced at Marks and Spencer.”

The divisional manager, specialising in Sandwich Sales, sat down with a satisfied look on their face. He doubted whether there had ever been such an awesome sandwich presentation in the history of the Marks and Spencer EAGM.


“What’s the matter Tommy, something stuck in your throat?”

Oh know not this again thought the chief executive of the board.

“The only thing stuck in my throat Mickey old chap is the thought of having to speak to you for another hundred years.”

The ghosts of Marks and Spencer regarded each other and then burst out in maniacal laughter. It was a well guarded secret that despite dying in 1907 the founding members of Marks & Spencer remained fully active members of the board, retaining full voting rights. The main problem with this was, apart from having to get new executives to sign a non-disclosure document due to ghosts being thought of as bad publicity, was keeping the venerable owners up to speed with the advancements in modern technology and the changes in the high street market. The CEO shuddered as she recalled having to explain what an avocado was to Mr Marks and she still wasn’t convinced that Mr Spencer knew what an email was, he had barely got his head around telephones before he passed away, so it was a steep learning curve.

“What I don’t understand is by what measure are we claiming these sandwiches are the best ever, has it got something to do with the cost? I mean you’re charging £2.80 for one sandwich, that’s almost a months wages.” Grumped Thomas Spencer.

“Um Mr Spencer, sir, do you remember when we explained inflation to you last year?”

“Why is the tea lady talking to me again Mickey.” Spencer said to his colleague.

“Senile fool, she’s the chief executive now. Things have changed you old coot.” Marks cackled to himself, pleased that he had got one over on his old, and very much dead, partner.

Steering the conversation back towards the subject at hand the CEO motioned to the sandwich divisional manager.

He stood back up, clearly startled. He had signed his non-disclosure form but he thought it had been some kind of new starter joke, but actual ghosts, it was bad enough having dinosaurs running the government, but to have ghosts running a massive corporation, it was beyond the pale.

“Well sirs,”

“Speak up lad, being dead for over a hundred years doesn’t improve ones hearing you know.” Marks hectored.

Both he and his partner laughed wickedly to themselves. They wondered how long this one would last.

“Well it is quite easy really,”

“Oh easy he says.. And how easy do you think it is being dead and still having to remember to come to meetings? When I was half your age I had started my first business, and worked down the mine to boot.. You don’t know the first thing about easy lad.”

“You tell him Mickey, and how old is he anyway, about eight.” They both guffawed again, pleased by their repartee .

“Please Mr Marks and Mr Spencer, let Taylor finish.”

Marks just looked at Spencer and they both burst out laughing again.

“Taylor… oh ho.. what sort of name is that… That sounds like the name of a dog..!”

Spencer was now laughing so hard that had he still possessed active tear ducts he would undoubtedly have been crying with laughter..

“Stop, if you don’t stop making me laugh old boy, I might just die again.”

They both roared with laughter, delirious with their own wit.

The CEO sighed and made a note to herself to roll this item over to the next meeting, and she made a mental note to herself to look for a new job as soon as possible.

©John de Gruyther 2018

Dedicated to my friend Chilts, who loves a prawn sandwich. x

The End

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