...and by cracking, I mean fracturing. Broken. Dislocated and amputated.
You know the Cheese Rolling Festival, where one loon lobs a lump of cheese down an extremely precipitous slope, and then a horde of gormsters charge down the trecherous incline after it, often landing in a tangled mess of injury at the bottom?
Well, in order to make it safer, they're replacing the 8lb truckle of Gloucester Gloucester with a ball of foam.
Now, I'm no expert, but I'm at a loss as to how switching a rounded block of dairycow smegma for a hastily carved slice of Tempur mattress will prevent the snapping and concussions accumulated whilst tripping and tumbling down a virtual cliff face.
Perhaps if they roll enough foamy cheese, then it makes a cushion at the bottom of the hill, providing a soft, bouncy bed to roll upon at final descent. Which puts the first lot of poor buggers at somewhat of a disadvantage, what with only umpteen suicidal pratts pratfalling down a precipice at a lone small ball of foam.
Besides, most injuries are incurred in the actually charge down, and they fall and bounce down the hill, bashing their bonce and breaking their bones and rupturing their ribs and dying an' orrible death surrounded by naught but a suspicious whiff of cheese sending you into the afterlife.
It's health and safety gone mad - no, not mad - ineffectual!
"Oo-arr. It be dangerous around these 'ere parts. Them stange folk hurtling down yon hill after a cheese and getting orl injured in ye process. Oi knows. If we's swap that cheese for a bit o'foam, we'll be larfin'"
"Why boi? Why we be larfin?"
"Cuz we'll be a-larfin' at them thar village idiots trying to avoid a foam ball in yon wind, tripping over it as it entangles their feets, thus causing further injury though increased tumblement"
"It be Haunch Of Foolish Boi for tea then, Pa?"
"Aye, lad. Aye. You go scrape up them wot's left in the ditch, and we'll have us a BBQ"
