Do you think this looks slightly like a punk owl? Barely faces in things!
Thank god for Masterchef. Its that time of the telly year when we delude ourselves that we are all much better cooks than we actually are. The supermarkets stock up on samphire and scollops lest they run out in the rush to cook what ultimately has a high chance of being a salty rubbery dish which we have to chew as our jaw springs open and squeaks on the fish. Tofu is no better, thats really squeaky. I think Veganist dishes will be popular this year to shame the carnivores into destroying our planet through over faming of cattle and chickens. Our ingredients cupboards will be fully stocked with star anise and vanilla pods, maybe a few strands of saffron, more expensive pound for pound than gold. My goodness this could well be a dubious fact fo the day, we haven’t had many of those for a while, maybe I’m getting my Mojo back, maybe Old Greg is my muse.
#MasterChefUK for twitter followers, I’m on it and have many opinions all of them my own apart from the good ones which I stole. There was a discussion over things our folks used to say to us when we were kids; my mum always used to say she would Marmalise me if I was bad. I imagine that means she would turn me into marmalade, that’s pretty heinous and thank god she didn’t follow up on her dastardly plan otherwise how the hell would you know what is going on in the woods known as Shrawley woods? Mmm? I’ll tell you, you wouldn’t because its all very hush, hush here, I regard myself, to a certain extent, to be the Shrawley whistle blower, with my 3 protagonists we dish the dirt on fungus, trees and more fungus, trees that look like other things and have faces in them. Standing up for muntjac and strategically placing lego figures only for the children or god forbid, adults, to steal them.
As my ex-brother in law once said, on a particularly intense ketamine fuelled trip to the toilet, the pull light cord swinging uncontrollably,
“Its all kicking off in here!”
Shrawley I mean.
Yesterday N revealed how he wanted to touch up C’s roots, something to do with hair and we did talk about the animal Hare too sometime over the weekend, can’t remember who with but they mentioned that they’d mistook a Hare for a Muntjac in their garden, I’d love to see a massive hare like that, I’ve only seen one knowingly in my life and I believe its somewhere in this blog, way back, there’s no index so good luck with that one!
Anyway thats enough of that for this evening, I shall be wallowing in a bath of Masterchef with tiny basil leaves and edible flowers for the foreseeable. But before i forget I must catch up on the atrocious swearing and bullying on the SAS programme with Ant. He dyes his hair, nuff said.