Britain a country famed for its quality wholesome, flavoursome dishes with such exotic taste (pffft)
Everyday the television bombards us with cookery shows! Yes, cookery! What a horrid word! Perfect!
You have to understand, I do enjoy these shows - but not one after the other on every channel! It gets so boring!
Especially the reality types... the ones with the actually great chefs I commend… the rest simply are tearful, apart from master chef!
I can imagine myself on there.
Picture this:
Right chefs, you have 20 minutes to create your finest main and desert that will excite our palates…
So, in my leopard print apron and stillies to match, I sashay off to my eco friendly shopping bag and remove from it my instant mash, chuck it in a bowl, mix up into a lumpy slop with kettle water to which I shall add my mini tin of spaghetti hoops... Actually I'm being posh, I’m going to add alphabetti spaghetti! Then I spread a generous layer of my mix over my pre-made and packaged tescos own tart base, bang it in the oven! Pure stress free! And ding ding! Done! Voila!
I VILL CALL THIS DISH TARTE A LA SPAGMA
Served with a wee light desert of Kipling cake... f*cking French fancy that, you trolls!
They probably would keel over in some chef nightmare realised and have heart attacks and die! But I would so win!
If not for my food - for my apron!
Back to reality!
See, someone like Heston Bleurghmental!
I couldn’t eat a single scientific genius dish he creates!
I like my food plain! My veg to be veg and all that…
I can totally appreciate his talent, but I wouldn’t trust anything cooked by a sheared ewok!
More than likely shit myself as an almond eyed bird that existed BC that’s actually yeti meat dives on to the table by a dangling string (you need to work on special effects bro) into a snail trail gravy!
Forgive my ignorance, but beans on toast will do!
However he is a clever, clever man!
Now Gordon… of course I’m going to love him - he speaks in the tongue of my own heart and has the ability to recognise decent food!
He’s the only name I could honestly say I would eat in his restaurant, and probably complain just to provoke him into telling me to f*ck off!
I adored the last series of the f-word despite it being a reality series, because the competition had me hanging! Addicted! Though not for the competitors but for Janet Street Porter breeding chickens and falling in love with pigs!
It made great viewing! Want more of that!
This brings me to my favourite... no, Delia, its not you, piss off… no, Netto Nazi Nigella, it’s not you either!
The two fat ladies!
Yes, they are just too much! They sum up for me everything that is wrong with Britain and right with the British!
They roar and roll there R’s as brash as they do their pastry, it’s beautiful! So charming!
They are real game girls… no, they are, literally! They shoot the bunny as it hops itself to the table, and with some rancid wool that a lot of women of their calibre would normally be knitting with, they drop one and pearl into a bunny pie seasoned with a bit of this and a dash of that, and drop it into an ounce of that artery blocking pastry mix that their school of people love!
They have stunned and taught the nation to cook the great and grotesque British menu, and therefore any other competitors can jog on...
Apart from Jane Asher, as she makes great biscuits…
So there you have it... Tea anyone?
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