I am appealing to you for help, in this, my most desperate hour of need.
You see, the awful problem that I face today is that I have two children both of which were born with a terrible and insidious addiction, one that I cannot now satisfy.
I can blame no one else, it is entirely my own fault, I inflicted this upon them because of my wanton and rebellious ways when I was pregnant with them.
The doctors say they can do nothing for me now. There is no cure. Just cold bland turkey for all of us.
Before I had my children, I lived in Hounslow. It was there that I got in with the wrong crowd - I made friends with several Indian ladies. They seemed to be very respectable at first.
One day, at an arts and craft festival, I was offered a chapati. After the first bite, I noticed that it had been spiked with a little bit of mild curry sauce.
“Is that Patak’s curry sauce?” I asked in suprise.
“Yeah, it’s very mild. Aw go on, try it. No-one’s looking!” she said looking around shiftily.
“I’ve never done that stuff before. I could get into trouble.” I said nervously.
“Of course not. It won’t do you any harm. You’ll enjoy it. Everyone round here takes it. Let your hair down, be a rebel.” She said.
A few bites couldn’t do me any harm, I thought. It tasted like nothing I’ve ever tried before - it was so good. Before I knew it, I’d eaten the whole lot and was asking for more.
At first I was only taking the mild stuff. It was the whole wild “scene” you know, the music, the chatting, the clothes. I thought it was really “cool” and that I was “in” with the “in-crowd”.
We’d get all dressed up in our saris, our Mark & Spencer overcoats, little woolen hats, open sandals and little black patent handbags and hang around the shopping malls. We make comments to passers-by and generally made a nuisance of ourselves in the local park.
The local residents were all scared of us. The police couldn’t do nothin’. They’d search us, but couldn’t ever pin anything on us, so they would just move us on.
At night, We’d all go out to have us some fun, you know, like, we’d do the charity dinners for orphans, the tea parties for the elderly and then after we'd bogey on down to the West End, to the sleezy ladies knitting clubs. Man, we were doin’ some far-out doylies and those crazy tea cosies. I suppose it really did my head in.
It wasn’t long before I started taking it at home, when I felt a little down, just to spice things up a bit. The habit just grew.
Then one day, I was invited along to an all-night Asian ladies cookery class. A right “rave up” it was. All the gang was there. Well, that night some real hard nut chicks from the Asian Ladies Pickling Society gate-crashed the party. That’s were I got onto the really hard stuff - it was Patak’s Madras curry paste and hot Patak’s mango pickle mixed together - the most potent fix there is. There was just no turning back, it was downhill all the way, I was very quickly up to a whole jar a day. Things got really bad after that, I didn’t bother to cook, I just ate the mango pickle mixed with hot curry paste, neat, straight out of the jar.
I couldn't stop, even when I was pregnant. I was warned what might happen to my children. When they were born, my worst fears were confirmed. At the tender age of 3 months I knew that they too had the same serious addiction. They didn’t want plain mashed potato or plain rice, it had to have Patak’s mango pickle in it or they wouldn’t eat at all.
But now I’m having trouble getting a fix. I can’t a find a dealer anywhere, maybe they’ve all been arrested, I don’t know.
I’ve tried bribing the supermarkets to get it for me. Tescos, Safeways, Sainsburys, the Indian corner shops, the delicatessens, the Cash and Carries - they don’t want to know.
My children and I are going through the most awful withdrawal. Please, please help me a find a supplier.