Posts tagged “food

A recipe for love

Ingredients:

  • One large cup-full of experience
  • One or two generous spoonfuls of sadness, according to taste
  • A large sprinkling of humour
  • An ounce of wholemeal wisdom
  • A fresh sprig of organic pain
  • Several free range smiles
  • Two eggs
  • An open mind
  • Some freshly picked humility (bottled is ok, if you can’t find fresh)
  • One open heart
  • Half a can of sheer guts, or baked beans, depending on the season

Mix the above ingredients in a large bowl and bake on the top shelf of a hot oven for a decade or two. Season with plenty of sex, laughter and fun, a few tears and some grated cheese. Garnish with cherry tomatoes and parsley.

For maximum pleasure, eat with someone else.


Tomato fucking bollocks

We go to Costa Brava every year, know what I mean? Me ‘n’ Micky ‘n’ the girls and the kids. Fuckin’ love it, we do. The food is fuckin’ out of this world. ‘cept for this one place we tried once, the Montón de Mierda or some shit. Anyway, it was a fuckin’ disgrace, I mean you couldn’t call that pile of shit a fuckin’ restaurant. Any’ow Mickey decides its time to complain.  “Whatchya mean there ain’t no fuckin’ chips?” ‘e says to the waiter,  “I come ‘ere on a fuckin’ plane ya cunt!” ‘e goes, “I got fuckin’ kids ‘ere! What am I supposed to do with this tomato fucking bollocks?”

So, Mickey gets up like, an’ I grab ‘is beer, so’s not to spill none, in case it kicks off, and ‘e takes this pan of tomato shit and shoves it in this cunt’s face. Its like somethin’ out of  Laurel and fuckin’ ‘ardy, except its scaldin’ ‘ot and this cunt is rollin’ round on the floor, clutchin’ at ‘is face an’ screamin’ like ‘e’d just shat a ton of fucking pineapples. Its hilarious, and me and the kids are pissin’ ourselves. The girls don’t even notice, they’re doin’ some shit on their iPhones, know what I mean?

Any’ow, we decide we’ve ‘ad enough of this shit and decide to go to our favourite caff, the El Inglés Son Gilipollas, they fuckin’ love us there, an’ get some proper grub. On the way out I pay the bill, an’ leave a tip. I mean, we ain’t rude, and we don’t wanna give us English a bad name or nuffin’. Know what I mean?

More in this series.


Chips

I’ll love you like
Chocolate
Or curry or
Chips.
I’ll kiss you like
Strawberries
Or sugar or
Crisps.
I’ll fuck you like
Roast beef
And come on
Your tits.


I wasn’t here

I wasn’t here today. I had to get a new laptop and it took all day to set it up. I got a bargain and bought some great pants with the money I saved, except I hadn’t saved anything, it was all money I didn’t have anyway. Someday someone will have to explain to me how the economy works. Not today though.

This evening I had dinner with dear friends. We had duck. I told their little boy that it was Donald. He didn’t think that was funny and cried. I felt bad. Once our local butcher had a sign in his window next to some rabbit carcasses, it read “Watership Down: you’ve read the book and seen the film, now eat the cast.” I thought it was hilarious. Why don’t four year olds share my sense of humour? Anyway little fella, sorry to make you cry, it wasn’t Donald, it was Huey.

I will be back tomorrow with some properly thought out shit.


The menu

for breakfast i’d like a little kiss
and maybe stroke you hair
for lunch i’d like to rub your back
or you feet, i don’t much care
for dinner, please can i kiss your breasts
and touch you right down there
and for dessert-

sorry sir, dessert is off tonight