Bad Fowl

After we’d attended St Columba Church in Botany the other morning, Flatmate Dave was kind enough to buy me a chicken sandwich for lunch.

So after thanking him, I rather rudely put it on the top shelf of the fridge to eat the following day.

But the following day, the chicken had gone off. And so had the beef I’d bought on Saturday. In fact it was all getting a bit room-temperature in there.

Do you know why? Yes, every time we’d closed the door, the little light in the top, immediately above my chicken sandwich, had been staying switched on.

Yes, our fridge had officially become a cooker.