Sunday, 24 October 2010

Expensive Tastes

The North West Good Food Festival was my destination the other day. The normal £6 entry fee was avoided thanks to the charms of my prospective future mum-in-law. Basically to describe it is like a summer fete but only with the grub and no donkey rides. There was a massive horse though that had something to do with beer but I'm not sure what. Would be nice to think it could produce beer naturally, it really was as big as a brewery, but it probably couldn't.

So anyways under the massive tent was a series of stalls ranging from exotic cheeses and fine wines, to well... a man from Costco. Also in addition to this were a couple of demo spaces where celebrity chefs would cook for an audience. The one we watched was mainly based around household waste and meals you can make of stuff that leaks in your fridge or grows a fur coat. Doesn't sound to appetising but surprise surprise they rustle up something fancy out of it, although it's based around the thin concept of everybody having some cumin and turmeric lying around (yeah next to my unicorn's blood and Angel Delight). Muscling (ha) my way up to the chef to get first dibs (side note: I can't remember the chef's name but he had curly hair and was a little like a hairy biker crossed with Chewbacca, theres a blurry pic of him up top) the food was nice; a homemade pitta bread, with gone off chicken and gone off homemade chicken tikka with not gone off cous cous. It was claimed to cost about 5p to me. Well I shop at Tesco, not next door's bin; I challenge anyone to find cumin for under 5p without stealing from the elderly or robbing a housewife at gunpoint (which if i did stoop low enough I'd at least take her exercise bike as well).

In and around all this of course were the stalls and what a wonderful cornacopia of culinary cuisine they were. That wasn't all sarcasm either, there was some genuinely brilliant stuff. I don't like cheese raw; I like it melted on stuff, but there was a curry cheese and a sticky toffee cheese I could and did take handfuls of. Seeds, BLOODY SEEDS that would give Fox Mulder an erection (anyone remember X-Files?) covered in chocolate; the seeds that is. The best and most expensive ice cream I've ever had, plus a 'momo' which is a Tibetan delicacy of beef or veg in a dumpling. Didn't seem that Tibetan but because I couldn't identify any herbs in there I gave it the benefit of the doubt. Homemade pies and puddings, fancy cupcakes too nice to eat, brownies too big to eat, organic veg too wonky to eat. I'm never one of those people to get behind organic produce over all else, it's just wonky veg really isn't it? If it's had less done to it why pay more?

Food at one point became quite secondary. I was cajoled into champagne sampling, to my previous knowledge the math was wine+fizz=champagneX6=where am I and why is there a condom hanging out of my arse?

I was wrong, champagne is a sweet science, I sampled four top vintages all from specific champagne regions and the third bottle in particular was 'spectacular' it had the deftness of the first sample and the depth of the second. If anything could be my crunk juice that'd be it, I forgot the name something grand and very French. Slightly sozzled from bubbly it was goaded around my system by white wine, mulled wine, red red wine (stay close to me-e-e) and port. I generally hate them all but actually enjoyed most if not all of them and it also allowed me to view the rest of the day in a bleary haze.

I still remembered a fair bit, I got a free rice measurer and a pen of some woman; watched a man grate garlic using only a plate and came to a stand with luxury chocolate from Northamptonshire 'ah the taste of home!' I thought, the nice chap explained the flavours and when I asked whereabouts in the county it was from he said Corby. I laughed in his face for a good couple of minutes. Then walked away.

Monday, 18 October 2010

Right Hand Man

Alfie zips up his jeans in celebration of what followed removing them, catching his breath as Lauren fluffed the pillows, ignoring the rest of the mess in the bedroom. 

'Can you nip out to the shops I'm starving.' She demands.

'I'll go to the chippy, what do you fancy?'



'Shut up you!' she responds whilst lobbing a once fluffed pillow.

With a peck on the cheek Alfie leaves wallet and all with the aim of being back before Corrie. Breezing through the gate he sees in the distance his new neighbour looming. They had met previously and shared an awkward beer. Alfie had to quickly decide when and if he just makes eye contact, does he stop and chat? What's he going to talk about? As they approach each other Jim the neighbour smiles broadly, whether he likes it or not he's in stop and chat territory now. Pleasantries are exchanged 'we should do something', 'yeah', 'how's Lauren?', 'yeah, I mean good' all the while Alfie's stomach grumbles as if it wants to be in the conversation or is just telling Jim to fuck off. 'Well be seeing you Alfie!' as he extends his right hand they shake firmly and it's all over. Textbook manshake, off to the chippy.

A tenner ejects itself from the cashpoint saying it's goodbyes to all the other notes for a life of wild adventure but probable retail career and after fending off the council kids after a fag, Alfie orders what he always does. Producing the tenner he emphatically places it in the cashier's palm, with an unintended chunk of skin contact. Completely innocuous Alfie heads home and dishes up.

Lauren chews like a cement mixer but stops when she notices Alfie pause. She asks what the matter is and as Alfie sniffs his right hand he looks back at her in horror.

'Jim's shaken hands with your muff!'

'You what?!'

'I didn't wash my hands before I left, I shook his hand with my muff hand!'

'Your what hand?'

'My muff hand, from earlier! Oh and Mrs. Singh in the chippy! Got a right big chunk of her hand too!' 

Lauren can only giggle, nothing can be done now but the thought of crossing Jim's path again makes her shiver.

Later that night Jim Toll snuggles up to Mrs Toll putting the hot water bottle to one side; as close a sign of romance as he knows. He sweeps her hair to one side in order to kiss her but she recoils in shock.

Alfie and Lauren hear screams, plates crashing and after five minutes a loud knock at the door. Mrs Toll has gone away with no word of when or if she'll return. The muff hand struck the first chance it could innocently crushing Jim's life with it's sweaty passion fragrance. Alfie ashamedly hides the marriage murder weapon in his pocket, apologizing over and over. Once Jim is relieved of angry mob duty and their porch is cleared Alfie reflects on his heinous act, wondering what Mr. Singh will think if he were to smell Mrs. Singh's hand, accuse her of lesbianism, the chip shop burning to the ground under hot fat and kebab grease. Where would he go for a takeaway now?

Lauren being a woman of needs, waits expectantly in her lingerie on the bed the next evening. Beckoning Alfie to her. He draws in closer guiding his right hand to her panties.


'Alfie come on!'

'I think I'll use my left from now on.'


That Justin Bieber is so hot right now...

Did you know that....

1) The only thing Bieber has on his toast is crack.

2) He doesn't tweet, he has a Cambodian child do it for him under his name.

3) Justin Bieber is an extension of Lady Gaga, she deploys him from a secret pouch above her womb when required.

4) He only has velcro on his trainers. He says he has no time for laces but we know the truth....

5) As a precaution later in life he is constructing a beard from his own pubes in case he is unable to grow facial hair and be taken seriously.

6) He is the illegitimate child Usher refers to having on his album Confessions. He doesn't pay child support but likes to hang around anyways, play catch and party.

7) He walks into glass windows/doors to get attention and to aid his addiction to injury scamming.

8) He has no time for the homeless, he never wears a real watch.

9) His hair is half real, half Playmobil.

10) He puts his left leg in, his left leg out, in out, in out, shakes it all about. He kicks homeless over and he turns around, that's what he's all about clap clap.

Peter Andre: The Next Chapter...I Mean Me

If my life were an ITV2 reality show, they'd have to severely pad it out with adverts. However it's not all been dull, I re-arranged my DVD's the other day....

It's a time of transition, adjusting to the grown-up lifestyle of living with my girlfriend and dinner parties, watching programmes I'm not interested in while sneakily scanning my blackberry for footy news, taking out the rubbish and commenting on the price of fuel. It's all heavy stuff, especially furniture up two flights of stairs. Many things have taken a backseat over the last few months, family, friends, writing but hopefully I can see the dust clearing and a little space in between (hence getting off my arse; sorry getting on my arse; to blog).

My Mum turns 50 this week, which reminds me that in March I'll be halfway there myself. With my Dad's 50th following soon after childhood is so distant to me now, I'm growing older with them rather than it always feeling just the same. We're all ticking down to the inevitable, we never get enough done, life is a waste etc, some of my cheery bedtime thoughts when Mrs. S is asleep.

But it's not all doom and gloom, far from it! Liverpool have new owners (yes!) ignoring the fact that the team are playing like kitchen appliances, although I think I fridge freezer would defend set-pieces better and a wok could show more ambition than Christian Poulsen in midfield. I'm getting more and more ideas for stories, at least two I feel are real winners (one story is even about winning) and I hope I can finish them both by Christmas with enough material to probably fill a copy of Heat, not that I'd ever want that to happen, people would get pissed off that the TV guide was missing.

Plus while I enjoy making the worst of the situation I really enjoy living with the missus. I'm a darn sight healthier, sleep a lot more, wear ironed clothes and discuss X Factor. My brief thoughts on X factor: Matt Cardle to win, Cher needs a new face, Mary Byrne and Wagner to have a child who can tour with them on bongos, John Adeleye is lovely but limited and half of the shows is a complete waste of time and pyrotechnics.

What you lose from living with your best mates you gain in other areas. Neither one is better than the other just life goes forward I guess and in five years it could be a whole other phase or way of life. Plus I've got a new bank account, A nice Natwest man who looked like or possibly was Joseph Fiennes insured my mobile and saved me money on travel insurance. I don't need travel insurance the farthest I'm going this year is Blackpool next week but still nice to know.

Another string to my man-bow is the ability to barndance. It was charity enforced; my Aunt organised an event for the Northamptonshire Air Ambulance and to be honest the tombola was where the real action was but if you were there you would've seen me wooing cougars left, right and centre. It's a bit like in Titanic just before Leo and Kate shag when they're dancing about but in a leisure centre with a buffet. The dancing involved so much partner swapping they might as well have left a bowl by the front door for all the car keys. It was a lot of fun and I would recommend it just for the cardio workout alone.