So it's Christmas Eve, and all the family are gathered round the telly, and the wife takes me aside and whispers: " I hope you remembered the sprouts."

Ah, I reply, yes, of course, they're er… in the car to keep cool.

Five minutes later I'm running up the road to the shops.

The local organic greengrocer has, of course, been closed for two weeks over Christmas, but the Co-op is still open. 

No sprouts. Tescos Express, no sprouts. So I get into the car and drive to Tescos in Worcester, and at one minute to ten I manage to squeeze in the door.

The staff are busy shovelling mince pies into black sacks, and I run to the produce section to see a big green crate with sprouts, special offer, written above it, and in the farthest corner of the crate I find one last sprout.

I look at the sprout, he looks at me, and the exchange goes like this.

Are you the  last  sprout?
Yes I'm the last sprout.
I'm the property of Tescos plc.
I'm the only one they've got,
And I'm worth an awful lot,
So don't you lay your grubby hands on me

When I grow up I want to be a cabbage.
With Raymond Blanc I hope to meet my fate.
in La Manoir au Quatre Saisons,
I'll wrap oysters seared with bacon,
Not served up on your grotty Christmas plate.

Anyway, I take a plastic bag and grab the sprout, like a green doggie poo, and head for the tills, but it's five minutes past ten on Christmas eve, and all the staff are hurling frozen turkeys into a skip, so there's only the self-service till. I press start and put the sprout on the scanner. Nothing happens. Then the scanner says

Is this the last sprout
Yes it's the last  sprout
Well it's really far too small for me to weigh.
If you have to be persistent,
Then just wait  for the assistant,
Or sling yer b....y hook 'til Boxing day.

Well, I kicked the scanner and this red light starts flashing, until one of the staff stops marking selection boxes down to 15p, and comes over, glaring fiercely at me.

Is this the last sprout? Yes it's the last sprout.
Well I hate to spoil your lovely Christmas eve,
It's not going anywhere, 'cos
The machine says it's not there,
So kindly put it back before you leave.

At this point I find myself kicking over a six foot pile of marked down Christmas crackers, which buries both assistant and machine,  I slip the sprout down my trousers, and walk awkwardly out of the shop. The staff are too busy shredding Advent calendars to notice. So, Christmas day dawns, and I present my spoils, and my wife looks at it and says.

Was that the last sprout?
Yes, it was the last sprout.
The only Brussels sprout that could be found.
If I cut it into eight,
With a leaf on every plate,
There should be just enough to go around.

And then the last sprout, that overcooked sprout.
Rolled off the plate and fell onto the floor.
Grandfather went reeling.
And the turkey hit the ceiling,
And the sausages went flying out the door.

You were the last sprout.
You were the Devil's sprout.
And now I know that your revenge was cruel.
Grandad's leg will be in plaster,
The turkey's a disaster,
And you cost an extra twenty quid in fuel.

Then the last sprout, that very flat sprout.
Now a slimy patch of green on grandad's slipper, 
As he faced a certain death,
took a final choking breath 
And muttered in a ghastly greenish whisper

When I grew up I longed to be a cabbage.
But now my hopes, and dreams are flattened on the floor.
But the theft of Brussels sprouts was
Videoed at Tescos checkout, I
Believe the police are knocking on the door.

Tim Cranmore