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America has an all-new health crisis to address. It’s called “Pie Guilt,” and it’s not what you think.

“Pie Guilt” is a major depressive disorder that results when some greedy, pie-loving glutton helps himself to the last piece of pie at a holiday gathering.

You know the scene:

Dinner is over. Dessert is over. Everyone has had their fill… ALMOST everyone.

There it sits, glistening in the glow of the under cabinet lighting: a lonely slice of pumpkin pie in all it’s golden-brown glory.

It calls out to you in a sweet, enticing tone: “Come on, fat boy! You know you want some of this.”

“What the hell?” you think to yourself. “I’ll just grab it when no one is looking and blame the dog. I blame my farts on him. Why not frame him as the key suspect in the ‘Great American Pie Caper?'”

Down your greedy gullet go the goods – swallowed whole.

You sit back down at the table as if nothing has happened.

But something did happen, and everyone knows it. Within moments, the teasing, the ribbing, and the unkind words about your mother come flying your way.

By the end of the night, you’re utterly devastated and equally disgusted with yourself. Overwhelmed with feelings of humiliation and guilt, you drive to the nearest bridge and jump to your death. The coroner marks it down as another death from Coronavirus.

Hammer and Nigel know your pain and they care. That’s why they’ve releasing their latest hit single before the Christmas feast: “Last Piece of Pie.”

Give it a listen, you fat bas*ard.