I am cake batter. I am cake batter all sticky and eggy and spicy (I am ginger cake). I am liquid sort of thick though, and cold and it isn’t very pleasant to be me right now I tell you. There are fingers dipping in me, my body wants to fight back but it can’t. When the fingers pull out it hurts and my body sticks to them and the fingers put me in mouths. It’s okay though, I’m used to it. I’m cake batter. When I get poured out of my bowl it’s okay too. I don’t really like the bowl; I like the tin. The tin is my favourite place. The tin goes in the oven and it is warm and I feel happy and I swell with assurance and pride and probably hot air, though without conceit. The oven is nice, the tin is nice, it is nice to be cake batter in these places. I am happy in these places. I am happy.