Led Zeppelin - Tea For One

So, I just spent the best part of an hour making a birthday cake for my Dad (yes, I decided to bake at midnight, what of it?). I like to think that it's because I'm nice and lovely and a good daughter, not that I have no money to buy him a real present.
Yes, good daughter, that's the ticket.

Anyway, it was one of those rare times when everything goes perfect, you whip the cake batter together and instead of making cake sludge, it goes all light and fluffy and there is no gloop or goo or general nastiness. I lined the tin and spooned the mixture (Victoria sponge with a hint of ground ginger - Dad likes all things spicy) into said lined tin and popped it into the oven on Gas Mark 7. I'd left the cake to cool on the side and all was well, it was a beautiful golden browny beige colour so I set to work making the icing.

I went to take the cake out of the tin and put it on a cooling rack and plop! It fell on the floor.

Now I know what you're thinking 3 second rule, it'll be fiiine , right? No.
It broke into pieces and accumulated an unsavoury amount of dog hair on it.

FML squared. I could've cried if it didn't look so fucking funny, beautiful pieces of cake smashed up on our kitchen tiles.

So sorry Dad, your birthday cake *was* going to be fabulous, ginger flavoured and fluffy and light. It was even going to have sprinkles and candles.

Instead there's a kitchen with every single utensil we own covered in cake batter. At least there's no crumbs on the floor though, but our cocker spaniel has gained approximately 14 stone.

Happy birthday!