Bladdie Auzzie heathens, about bladdie time they got their act together. Some time ago I got completely caught out not realising my Marmite tub was the last. I usually have at least a couple of biggie spare but bitch of the times got the inventory wrong. Turned the larder inside out through a lethal sneer but it remained bare no matter how many times I looked and Buddha he's no bloody use at all in times like that believe me. Now I'm stuck with enough for about a week, praps stretched to two on ration so ordered some as high priority on the next plane over believing the worst case scenario would have me scraping the impossible bulges for a couple of days, then settled back with the smug equivalent of a heavenly wank but vowing never again to leave the inner workings of this homestead to the foul stench of a buffalo, then flew into mild panic when friend delayed a month due to work schedule but resolved that by putting another on notice due a couple of weeks later than the inconsiderate bastard. Meanwhile Auzzie friend called and is coming over in a few days so cancelled the Brit order and told that muslim son of a wallaby whore to bring me some Vegemite, which he did. Of course more fool me, it's nothing like the real thing, same colour but that's as near to reality as those retards can get on their best roll and tastes like I won't even try to describe but I made my bed and got on with it, determined to get through both tubs as penance not only for leaving my dietary supplement in care of a wog but also for the temerity to trust anything that comes out of a roo's asshole. Then DD or some other windup merchant mentioned that Tops had the stuff and true enough I was on my bike for a look but by then I was firmly in sufferance mode and stayed with the mushy droppings whilst bravely crowing that my stock is replenished in line with the laws of physics. I've had enough and must now come clean, having last night broken bread with a knucklescraping string of Brit gob who brought out the real McCoy...I bit my tongue and choked but couldn't draw myself to confessing this intimate pain and resolved to declare with no fear of contention that Marmite is nothing like that dung specially prepared for and so well loved by criminal offspring.