It is with great sadness and eyes filled with Earl Grey tinted tears that we announce that, after a short illness caused by general apathy towards it outside of hungry groups of British people, the Beijing branch of esteemed UK retailer Marks and Spencer has shuffled off its mortal coil.
Marks and Spencer, or ‘Marks and Sparks’, as it was known to their chums, arrived with great fanfare and aplomb in the halcyon days of December 2015 and ensured that the imminent Christmas was the most festive that the denizens of the Colony of Expatia had ever seen, with sweeties and crackers and Anglophile merriment for everyone.
Bereaved: Percy Pig.
Alas, the Bucks-Fizz fuelled hype surrounding the opening of M&S (as feverish as a Dickensian orphan with tuberculosis dying on the cobblestones, we must add), was brilliant but brief. Despite the love of the Commonwealth for the kind of arse-covering underwear and slightly-depressed looking food items that the shop stocked, the wider world looked on, cruelly apathetic towards orange squash and sensible, wide-fit court shoes alike. Because of this ignorance, Beijing will never again know the matronly embrace of mini-bite tubs, Welsh cakes for breakfast and that clammy thrill that comes with distinguishing yourself from the yobbos that shop in Tesco.
M&S is survived by their progeny, Percy Pig and Actually Decent Tights That Actually Stay Up, who have returned to the motherland to lick their wounds and mourn the loss of their parent company. The limey contingent here at Time Out Towers respectfully suggest that Brits in exile need to make like Queen Vic (the bloated monarch, not the Eastenders pub) and dig out their most maudlin black mourning gear. In addition, crumpets should be toasted at half-mast for the foreseeable future.