Alfred, the Elvis Years

Don't you step on his blue suede shoes.

Carrots age quickly. It has been estimated that for every day that it's above ground and unrefrigerated, a fresh young carrot will age the equivalent of ten human years.

Thus it was that after only four days of partying, laughter and general mayhem, Alfred reached his Elvis impersonation stage. Dressed in his filthy cream jacket, hanging out with well-known pretend celebrities such as the fellas out of Nowaysis and Greenish Day, Alfred became a hit on the tribute act circuit, playing to frenzied audiences of frustrated accountants at Britain's barn conversion venues. He had a grand old time, but it couldn't end well, could it?

Alfred the Fresh Young Carrot

Young, fresh and curiously sexy - Alfred the Carrot

And so begins the tale of young Alfred, the big-nosed carrot, who first came into my life last Wednesday. I was just about to start peeling him, ready for the pot, when I noticed his appealing features - his outsized proboscis, arched eyebrows and goofy smile - but it was the buck teeth that really made my heart melt.

And then he spoke...

He spoke of his life since he went overground, hauled from the earth by a rusty piece of farm machinery somewhere in darkest Cambridgeshire. He spoke of being washed, sorted and packed in to a recyclable plastic bag with ten of his family, then taken by lorry to Morrisons supermarket in Totton. He told me he was claustrophobic, and of how happy he was to be alive and free from the sweaty plastic bag at last.

I told him that I wouldn't chop him up and use him as a colourful salad accompaniment. I told him I would help him, that I would take him to parties where he could meet the stars, that he could have a life above and beyond that of an ordinary carrot. He cried, and as a dribble of snot rolled down his upper lip, he blushed, turning bright orange, and told me that he was the happiest carrot that ever lived.

So I chopped up his brother Fred instead. Mmm, tasty!