Once, while writhing in a carbon monoxide-induced haze on a forecourt in a layby near Bishop's Butte, New Britain, New Hampshire, I had a vision. A tiny, tunnel-like one, filled with twisted kaleidascopic little dancing lemmings and whistle-tootling chocolate rolls, to be sure, but a bona fide (that's your actual french) and unique one, at that.

It occurred to me that it was no good going to the trouble of standing nood in the kitchen struggling and sweating over a good, thick, well-made sandwich if the first thing that was to happen once I wrestled it into the bath was that it would go limper than an NHS researcher doing a survey on 'Brewer's Droop'!

Into my tidy little brain the thought loped, 'Something must be done!', followed by,'Oh, shut up. I've still got some hallucinating to do....'

But, like all revolutionary ideas, it was a time that would not lie down and be left alone. My memory would cough it up again at the oddest times:

1. In the receiving line for Perry Lee-Moremont, the world's foremost
   foreman, who was arriving at the Poughkeepsie Hilton to judge the 33rd
   Annual Miss Cement Mixer contest, during which my cousin and half-sister, Potrzebie 'Leeann' Runcible won second prize, a trip to York, Pennsylvania to see the Greyhound Bus station in all it's glory on Whitsunday.
2. In the serving line at Milt's Wonderburger Barn, in East Winesap,
   Illinois, where I met a young woman who was very interested in my Dancing Hippo tattoo and asked me where she could get one, too. Before I could survey her physique and venture a suggestion, her parole officer took on a rather pushy tone and actually escorted her from my company, making vague threats and suggestions of his own.
   
   And, finally,
   
   (and this was the very last straw)
3. During a bikini wax in Waikiki during Hurricane Irving in July of 1985, when I was having the time of my life dribbling that stuff up and down the untoweled bits of a one-time Olympic Hammer-Thrower named Debbie... who became very distraught when I became distracted, because, as it turned out, she really did like her eyebrows and was due for a fashion shoot for Red Wing Steel-Toed Boots that very afternoon...

So, history, circumstance and the burn ward all conspired to give one a time and a place to truly think. This article is the result of those thoughts and any truly thoughtful person would really be off having thoughts of their own, so I am assuming that the reader would like me to do some thinking for them at the moment, which is wonderful, since I think we both can use the exercise.

1. Block paraffin, or the stuff you put in the lids of canning jars for a seal...

2. Bottle hydrologised peanut oil

3. Head Norwegian winter lettuce

4. Jar of processed cheese-like food

5. A joint of Royal Navy spec worsted Belgian beef

6. A loaf of homemade 14 grain bread, close-celled and week-old

7. Tube of Earlongdale's 'Prince of India' curried stiff mustard

8. A table, preferrably clean to the naked eye... though it wouldn't hurt to run your hand across it once to see if anything bites... but then, we all could use a little more protein, so, on second thought...

9. A knife that is at least six inches long and a bit sharper than
   you...

10. Adult supervision. You don't count.

11. A bath. Soon. Preferably after this recipe is complete. Having a screen saver of Carol Vorderman taking a bath doesn't count. Repeat after me: 'I need a bath. I need a bath. If Carol can do it, so can I ...'

• B) Combine ingredients carefully and creatively, though, it is to be hoped that you proceed with at least one slice of bread on the underside, apply unguents to fingers, wash blood off knife, ask adult supervisor to kiss and make it better...

• C) Then take entire mess and dump it in a previously prepared pastry shell, seal shell by pinching it like it was your sister, shellac with Marine Grade untinted egg white solution and...

• DD) Bake for thirty minutes at 273.4 degrees Farenheit ...

• E) Take into bath with you and keep open end up at all times!

The Recipe Archive

(tonsil revenge)

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