A Quote by Caitlin Moran

Always remember that, nine times out of ten, you probably aren’t having a full-on nervous breakdown – you just need a cup of tea and a biscuit. You’d be amazed how easily and repeatedly you can confuse the two. Get a big biscuit tin.
In Britain, a cup of tea is the answer to every problem. Fallen off your bicycle? Nice cup of tea. Your house has been destroyed by a meteorite? Nice cup of tea and a biscuit. Your entire family has been eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex that has travelled through a space/time portal? Nice cup of tea and a piece of cake. Possibly a savoury option would be welcome here too, for example a Scotch egg or a sausage roll.
The biscuit tin shouldn't be handy - move it about a bit. Try to keep it out of the way.
When I was about 7 years old, I built a leprechaun trap out of a cardboard box, a biscuit tin and some toilet paper tubes.
But with dogs, we do have "bad dog." Bad dog exists. "Bad dog! Bad dog! Stole a biscuit, bad dog!" The dog is saying, "Who are you to judge me? You human beings who’ve had genocide, war against people of different creeds, colors, religions, and I stole a biscuit?! Is that a crime? People of the world!" "Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.
It's said the FA chairman (Keith Wiseman) would travel 200 miles to open a biscuit tin. Why?
You ever dip your biscuit in your tea and it breaks. I swear now, you never get used to that.
The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! he will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup.
If you want my Tim Hortons order, I do get the egg and sausage and cheese on a biscuit. One is usually enough. If I'm really feeling greedy, I'll get two. I'll do that with a large coffee.
The interests of the employers and the employed are the same nine times out of ten-I will even say ninety-nine times out of ten.
I cannot go any further without mentioning my favourite biscuit of all time, now sadly, tragically, extinct. The oaty, crumbly, demerara notes of the long-forgotten Abbey Crunch will remain forever on my lips. I loved the biscuit as much as anything I have ever eaten, and often, in moments of solitude, I still think about its warm, buttery, sugary self.
You gotta risk it to get the biscuit.
I believe in instinct, not reason. When reason is right, nine times out of ten it is impotent, and when it prevails, nine times out of ten it is wrong.
For me to have a cheeky little biscuit, it's not going to hurt. But I need to control those indulgences. I can't just be scoffing cakes and biscuits five nights a week.
I found out that I couldn't have a nervous breakdown. I tried a couple of times, but it just didn't work out. My mind, my body wouldn't let me.
I am very passionate about my first cup of morning tea. I like it in a certain way, so rather than having someone follow my instructions and go through the drill I prefer to just make my own cup of tea.
"Poor Mrs. Benefer," Heather murmured. "Well, a nice cup of tea and she'll be right as rain.""Oh, puh-leeze, Heather. A nice cup of tea, indeed. A nice cup of tea, two Prozac, and sleep for a week, maybe..."
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