Once upon a time in a town called Bromsgrove, there was a birth, and on that day, all cakes and sweet pastries shuddered, as they knew their sweet and fanciful days looking nice on plate, were numbered. And so it came to pass that indeed most sweet things were devoured over the course of a few decades, but one maker of such sweet fineries took revenge and invented a thing known as a 'charity run.'..... Anyone known to have spent too much of their lives enjoying devouring too many sweet things were cursed to spend most of their middle aged lives running for charity and avoid having the body resembling a massive boiled egg. So, if not for the charity, then please support a cake addict doomed to run forever!!!! Thanks