Sometimes, when I'm trying to think up ideas, my mind wanders off into some strange places. Today's destination was pickled eggs. I used to think these abominations were peculiar to Britain until I saw a jar of them sitting on Moe's bar in The Simpsons. I really can't work out the reason for their existence. Who in their right mind would sit in a bar, enjoy a beer or two with friends and suddenly think "What I need now is a cold, rubbery hard-boiled egg thet's been soaking in vinegar for two months"?
I await the backlash from the pickled egg perverts among you.