I thought that I had better write this second blog today, for two reasons, the first is that it’s a slow day in the office, the second is I think I might die. So I ought to leave some last thoughts for people to remember me by.
The reason I might well pass over this afternoon, is that whilst out on my lunch time amble around the centre of town I was aware that I was a might peckish, and as it was Friday I thought that I might indulge myself in something a little more substantial than my usual ‘healthy’ lunch. I thought I would have a pasty.
It’s a common and usual sight to see people trudging around the fair and sunny City of Plymouth shoving that popular Cornish snack down their throats. It’s an age old custom is having a Pasty. Once of course they were both lunch and pudding, for traditionally they would have your meat and potatoes etc at one end and apple and fruit at the other. The Tin Miners, for that is who ate them would hold onto the pasty by the crust and then throw the crust away. Why, because the ground in Cornwall has a high percentage of Arsenic in it so if you were a dirty miner, picking up them French habits, and not washing your hands, whilst you were 200 fathoms down you might poison yourself.
Why am I telling you this, simply because I think the pasty I just had has poisoned me. One would have thought that your basic, wholemeal, vegetable pasty would have some minor health benefits. What with the wholemeal flower and the vegetables this would come close to, I would guess, providing at least one or two portions of the 5 bits of fruit and veg one should eat a day. So why am I sitting here feeling like I have just eaten the ten packets of Lard I saw a Chinese guy buy in Tesco’s the other day! (I was going to follow him to see which Chinese restaurant used cheap Tesco’s Lard to deep fry their pineapple fritters and then tell you they were vegetarian, but I couldn’t be arsed!)
It always surprises me how it is possible to take basic ingredients, mix them together to create something that has been well designed and used for centuries, and then still turn out shit? Is there a special college where these cooks go to? These crap cooks/chefs are the bane of the vegetarian’s life, they have no flair, no idea of how to cook anything unless it’s got meat in it, and they can’t seem to think further than pasta with cheese sauce, Lasagne, Mushroom risotto, or watery curry for the vegetarian.
So I am sitting here on my way out due to a badly made pasty.
The other thing that gets on my goat, is why o why do people have to tell you that you look like someone famous? And in my case why does it have to be Ozzy bloody Osbourne. I don’t look like him at all. I can walk in a straight line, my hands don’t shake like I’ve got Parkinson’s, I can speak with out slurring, I don’t have a brummy accent. The only minor resemblance is I have relatively long hair, only touching my shoulders and wear glasses, but not even round granny types, just normal trendy specsavers. But in the last few weeks a couple of people have said to me ‘O bye the way has anyone ever told you…YES NOW FUCK OFF!’
I don’t know if the Ozzy insult is as bad as a few years ago when people told me that I looked like Danny Baker! Now he’s a Fat Cockney C*&+ ! That was a true insult. I mean someone, not a girl unfortunately, even came up and asked me in the middle of a club, while I was dancing. How Rude. Why can't they mistake me for Jude Law, or Brad Pitt or even Bryan Ferry especially as I spent many a teenage evening practising to be him in front of a mirror - how sad is that?
My stomach still feels like the landfill at Windscale and is emitting strange noise and I am sure the pressure is building up in there. In deference to my new trousers, which I have worn again this week, and not ripped once, I will not attempt to fart once the pressure has reached a head in fear of having to stagger, bowlegged, back down to M&S for some new ones.
I await my fate, with dignity and poise. And in the meantime, now this blog is finished, spend the rest of the afternoon phoning people and surfing t’internet until I am, alas, no more…..I might be some time…...
Have a nice one!
The reason I might well pass over this afternoon, is that whilst out on my lunch time amble around the centre of town I was aware that I was a might peckish, and as it was Friday I thought that I might indulge myself in something a little more substantial than my usual ‘healthy’ lunch. I thought I would have a pasty.
It’s a common and usual sight to see people trudging around the fair and sunny City of Plymouth shoving that popular Cornish snack down their throats. It’s an age old custom is having a Pasty. Once of course they were both lunch and pudding, for traditionally they would have your meat and potatoes etc at one end and apple and fruit at the other. The Tin Miners, for that is who ate them would hold onto the pasty by the crust and then throw the crust away. Why, because the ground in Cornwall has a high percentage of Arsenic in it so if you were a dirty miner, picking up them French habits, and not washing your hands, whilst you were 200 fathoms down you might poison yourself.
Why am I telling you this, simply because I think the pasty I just had has poisoned me. One would have thought that your basic, wholemeal, vegetable pasty would have some minor health benefits. What with the wholemeal flower and the vegetables this would come close to, I would guess, providing at least one or two portions of the 5 bits of fruit and veg one should eat a day. So why am I sitting here feeling like I have just eaten the ten packets of Lard I saw a Chinese guy buy in Tesco’s the other day! (I was going to follow him to see which Chinese restaurant used cheap Tesco’s Lard to deep fry their pineapple fritters and then tell you they were vegetarian, but I couldn’t be arsed!)
It always surprises me how it is possible to take basic ingredients, mix them together to create something that has been well designed and used for centuries, and then still turn out shit? Is there a special college where these cooks go to? These crap cooks/chefs are the bane of the vegetarian’s life, they have no flair, no idea of how to cook anything unless it’s got meat in it, and they can’t seem to think further than pasta with cheese sauce, Lasagne, Mushroom risotto, or watery curry for the vegetarian.
So I am sitting here on my way out due to a badly made pasty.
The other thing that gets on my goat, is why o why do people have to tell you that you look like someone famous? And in my case why does it have to be Ozzy bloody Osbourne. I don’t look like him at all. I can walk in a straight line, my hands don’t shake like I’ve got Parkinson’s, I can speak with out slurring, I don’t have a brummy accent. The only minor resemblance is I have relatively long hair, only touching my shoulders and wear glasses, but not even round granny types, just normal trendy specsavers. But in the last few weeks a couple of people have said to me ‘O bye the way has anyone ever told you…YES NOW FUCK OFF!’
I don’t know if the Ozzy insult is as bad as a few years ago when people told me that I looked like Danny Baker! Now he’s a Fat Cockney C*&+ ! That was a true insult. I mean someone, not a girl unfortunately, even came up and asked me in the middle of a club, while I was dancing. How Rude. Why can't they mistake me for Jude Law, or Brad Pitt or even Bryan Ferry especially as I spent many a teenage evening practising to be him in front of a mirror - how sad is that?
My stomach still feels like the landfill at Windscale and is emitting strange noise and I am sure the pressure is building up in there. In deference to my new trousers, which I have worn again this week, and not ripped once, I will not attempt to fart once the pressure has reached a head in fear of having to stagger, bowlegged, back down to M&S for some new ones.
I await my fate, with dignity and poise. And in the meantime, now this blog is finished, spend the rest of the afternoon phoning people and surfing t’internet until I am, alas, no more…..I might be some time…...
Have a nice one!
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