Something is wrong.
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I wonder how many crumpets I can fit into my mouth at once?

I survey the wedge of holey dough dripping with butter with interest, turning it this way and that so I can examine it from multiple angles.

One or two?

I squish it between my forefinger and thumb experimentally, causing a wad of warm butter to trickle down my hand.

If I compact them first to get rid of most of the air, then definitely three.
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I’ve seen you around here, and I know that you’ve probably seen me. But I never really properly introduced myself. But being that you look friendly enough, I thought I’d just say hello, even if it is a bit late for proper introductions. My name is Tav. OK…well, no it’s not. It’s Tavarius Phineas Blung. But that’s too much to say and I think it sounds like a really bad incantation for banishing belly-button hair or drying out toe fungus or something. But don’t tell my parents that.
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