Saturday, December 03, 2005

I Went on Holiday by Mistake.


There are, as the cliché goes, some days when it would be better to stay in bed than venture into the outside world. I’m firmly of the opinion that should one calamity occur, it is better to admit defeat than to risk the possibility of further misfortunes and indignities. Tempting fate is never a good idea as the gods of malice clearly derive enjoyment from compounding disaster with discomfort.

My holiday began with a flat car battery. My battery charger was buggered so I was delayed for an hour waiting for the man from the garage to arrive. When I finally got underway things went swimmingly until I got on the motorway just south of Glasgow.
The traffic ground to a halt and I was stuck in a three hour traffic jam caused by snow. Naturally I was totally unprepared and had neither a flask of coffee nor a Mars bar to sustain me through the tedium. At one point I had to get out of the car and piss in front of the line of traffic with only a newspaper concealing my todger from view.

When the jam finally cleared I decided to call at the next service station and get some sorely needed food. Naturally, everyone else had the same idea and by the time I got there they had run out of hot food. Five hours of starvation and all I could get was a ham sandwich and a packet of crisps.

On finally reaching my destination I headed out to a charming country pub for a proper meal. The menu looked wonderful: much creative endeavour with parmesan shavings, game chips, balsamic reductions and the like. I shouldn’t have raised my hopes. The food was utter shite.

It’s all the fault of celebrity chefs. Thanks to them every twat just out of catering college thinks that they are a culinary genius. They haven’t got a fucking clue. If they stuck to the basics of fresh, properly prepared, simple food, everyone would go home happy. Instead they make a total balls of technically difficult dishes, and serve them up with a flourish. Wankers.

The rest of my holiday was excellent. Cumbria is very pictureskew.

17 comments:

Sniffy said...

SCRUBBERS!

Good to have you back.

I do find that most restaurants really over-egg the pudding in terms of attempting to produce stuff that is way beyond their capabilities and then dressing up their menus to give descriptions of their dishes that bear no resemblance to the finished product. On the flipside, there are some excellent pub restaurants knocking about who, like you say, do things simply, but very well indeed. I've been fortunate to experience such food at the, I think it's called the Queen's Head Hotel at one end of the kirkstone pass. Excellent food in a lovely environment.

Piggy and Tazzy said...

I think most pub food comes pre-prepared these days, doesn't it? All they ever have to do is shove it in the microwave for the allotted time and dollop it onto a plate for the punters.

Lovely pic!

You pee jam?

Celebrity chefs are responsible for the vast majority of shite we eat out these days, agreed.

Wankers.

pissoff said...

Garfer... As I sit here shoving my face full of poppycock I wonder if real food is even necessary.

Herge Smith said...

I thought you were dead.

Seems you're not.

Celebrity chefs are ace - in fact all celebrities are ace - we need them to distract us from our miserable lives and the actions of a Government who have big business and US Government interests at heart.

garfer said...

The majority of celeb chefs should be skewered and barbequed over a flaming pit. The politicians should then be forced to eat thier charred remains, preferably garnished with a little disemboweled Coldplay and James Blunt on the side.

Sniffy said...

Nice thought.

I'm sure the world would be a better place if you were in charge.

garfer said...

My liberal views and tolerance for all things is well known. I would make a fine judge, dispensing justice and floggings wisely and dispassionately.

Sniffy said...

Can I be a henchman? I mean, adviser?

Herge Smith said...

I heard James Blunt was constructed in lab where the goal was to make to fuse the colour beige with a weak human and a piece of chipboard.

The experiment was a success in one respect.

Sniffy said...

You hit the nail on the head with that one herge. Spot on.

surly girl said...

absolutely. mawkish, shite sixth-form angsty poetry set to various beats from a casio keyboard and squawked in a high-pitched wail.

that aside, welcome back garfer. hope your hollybobs got better after pissing by the roadside and a shit meal.

funny thing said...

Mrs B's in Windermere.

Shameless advertising from me. Gay-friendly; an a la carte chef (Jeff), a slightly awkward but lovely front man (Andrew, Jeff's partner) and scrumplicious food.

I know, because I stayed there in the summer.

As for James Blunt. I thought he was a sixth-former?
Nice, if you were lobotomised in a car crash and also like Westlife.

becca said...

Cumbria is very pictureskew. Ha I actually said the same thing this weekend when we stopped at tebay services.

MHN for short said...

So glad to have you back. Is that a photo you took? It's GEORGEOUS!

Faltanus said...

pictureskew....is that the british version of the english word picturesque? sometimes i swear we speak different languages.

garfer said...

I spelt the word phonetically. We write the word the same way as you Yanks.

Faltanus said...

oh damn....my comment did sound a little snotty didn't it? i didn't mean it that way. i actually thought that maybe there was some british slang "picture skew" i hadn't heard before. i apologize if i came off sounding pretentious there!