Death by ginger flapjack

As far as ways to go are concerned 'death by flapjack' would at least make a graveside talking point.
I have had 2 allergic reactions before in my life, which were discovered in the most inappropriate ways. The first is magnolias. How could this be discovered? Being brought the wrong bunch of flowers? An itchy garden party? No. Magnolia shower gel. Head to toe red rash, including the most sensitive areas. Oooh firecrotch the prequel. However after running to my mother this was easily fixed by turning on the cold tap. The second was Elderflower. Elderflower cider. In a pub in London. The cure? Keep drinking cider and try no to snort it through your nose as you join your family in laughing at you.
This time however was severe. I ate a ginger flapjack or as they will now be known: Cosmos bitch slap biscuits. After eating one of these my throat started to swell and constrict. With my throat throbbing and red I threw myself onto my bed thinking I would die and imagining my tombstone:
Here lies Kayleigh- Killed by a ginger flapjack; the only reasons she'll be remembered.
When the cosmos tries to bitch slap you there's only one thing for it: Ice cream. I justified my need to down a gallon of ice cream on my sore throat. Surely the numbing properties were medicinal?
Upon entering the shop I thought for a second I had stepped into a parallel universe. Was this a hot guy in the village shop? True there has been an influx of men due to the new roadworks. These roadwork seem to consist of men moving the pedestrian barriers every few minutes and then standing around for 6 hours. Most of these men appear to be disgusting bald men, who rub their thighs as my students walk past and ignore the voice in their heads that should be screaming jail bait. However here was a hot one, slightly rudely in my way. I mustered up all my vocal strength to say 'excuse me'. I was impressed, my pummelled vocal chords gave me a wonderful husky tone. It was like an M&S advert describing a polite request to move. Wow check me out.
I should have known better, after all this was me and I had just eaten a Cosmos bitch slap biscuit. Upon approaching the counter 'hot man' stood back to let me go first. I was ready with my new husky voice to say thank you,
'Hooouurghhh haaack uulp'
The phlegmy sound of my throat retaliating against it's ginger invasion was the only thing to be heard. Followed by my subsequent need to swallow back down the mass of green fluid to avoid spitting it out in his face. No longer M&S polite request but more a drug addled prostitute hacking up an unwashed penis blow job.
How could he resist?