When my teacup fell over, I knew it was the end of the world.
It was my favourite cup, filled with piping hot English Breakfast. The other cups soon followed, but I was still in the thrall of my shattered favourite. Tiles fell from the roof, shattering against my beautiful floor; my word, I just cleaned it!
Positively fuming, I left for my garden, which did little to quell my anger. Flowers torn from their roots, earth tearing apart with a terrible groan, and hooligans screaming for their worthless lives.
If only I had that cup of tea…