11 Feb 2013

And Then, Eye Of Newt….

With the continuing furlong, sorry, furore over horses rather than beefses meat being on our menus, what could possibly be next, and there will be a next.  Could it be the turn of the chickens?  You know what cannibals say about us and chicken, right?  Next time you have a ready chicken meal, check it out with great care and if you find any item of jewellery, however small, a shirt button or trouser zip, and if it has a slight odour of formaldehyde, I would seriously suggest you alert the authorities at your earliest convenience.  Once you're feeling a little better that is.
{Note to self; avoid Shepherd's Pie for now.}

It's also my opinion you shouldn't dwell on any thoughts of what else could be going in and coming out of those 'meat' processing plants that's probably used to bulk up your Beef Bourguignon.

What's my little nest of vipers think about all this?  No real big deal.  She does, however, harbour a hope that, with time, our eateries may become slightly more adventurous with their menus.
Waiter, "And for you Madam?"
Her indoors, "Is your fire burning and the cauldron bubbling?"
"That it is. Like a hell-broth it's boiling and bubbling."
"Right then, I'll have the fillet of a fenny snake,
eye of newt, and toe of frog,
wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing.  Medium rare - a side-salad of poison ivy and chilli, heavy on the chilli, and a bottle of fizzy water with a straw please."
"A lovely choice.  And for you Sir?"
"I'll just have Chef's Offal Platter Du Jure please.  Wi
th fries."

On a serious note, I've decided against ready-made Ratatouille 'till things settle down a tad.  Okay, it's supposed to be vegetables but right now it seems what's on the tin aint necessarily what's in the tin and I'd hate to eat a Ratatouille just to find out, later, it was the exception to the rule and a product of Pied Piper Foods, EU.  Hay, EU to you too!!  And take your dead donkeys' with you!! 

 Quote;  Yogi Berra.

"When the waitress asked if I wanted my pizza cut into four or eight slices, I said, 'Four. I don’t think I can eat eight.'"

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