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Guards! Guards! He is dead!

So long, Terry. It was a long and funny ride. All my love.

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Latest reply: Mar 12, 2015

Fight Night

One of my cats has challenged the kitchen carpet to a wrestling duel. The bout started about five minutes ago, and she does not appear to be winning. smiley - laugh

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Latest reply: Mar 11, 2014

What's for dinner?

We live in a time when what most of the things offered us for eating purposes consist of wilting hamburgers, greasy pizza and that sort of spicy food that hurts you both coming and going, not to be too graphic on the subject. How nice is it not then to celebrate old traditions from the 20th century and cook your own food in your own home. I love cooking. It is sensual and sexy. Step by step I will now therefore show you how I make a nice beef stew. I am a trained chef so I will do this slowly, in order for you to keep up and not miss out on anything. Here we go.

On my counter is a bowl of onions and a bowl of diced pieces of beef. First, I chop the onions nicely. When half of the onions are chopped I switch to another chopping board and put the now bloody one in the dish washer. After having had my cut finger seen to by my wife I chop the rest of the onions and throw them in to a pot of really hot oil. I pull the pot away from the heat, rush to the cold water tap and pour ice cold water over the burns on my arms for some minutes. When that is done, I ask my wife to turn off the tap since my hands and arms are now frozen solid and numb from the cold water.

I put the pot back on the heat. I pull it away from the heat, put on a jacket, run down to the grocery shop and buy new meat as a substitute for the meat that was consumed by my cats while I was busy treating my third degree burns. At home again, I put the pot on the heat, sauté the onions, put the meat in there too and stir a bit. I open the fridge to get a can of nice, stout beer to put in the pot, but opt for a bit of water and a buillion cube instead, as I drank the beer last night.

It is now time to chop some chili. I chop the chili. A hair of my moustache tickles my nose. I tickle it back. I pour four gallons of water into my nose and then try, gargling, to console family members who where frightened by my screams of agony. When I come back the smell from the pot, at least that of it that I sense, is now acceptable. I open the fridge and take out a can of nice double cream. I open the can hold it over the pot and see a grey lump of off cream slide out and splash heavily into the pot. I pull the pot from the heat, run out into the shower and spray cold water over myself, with my clothes still on, until the pain has subsided. I dry, change clothes, take the telephone, dial a number I know by heart and then get in the car to collect the pizzas.

I hate cooking. It is messy and painful.

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Latest reply: Mar 2, 2014


Having a mini h2g2 meetup tonight with Milla. We'll drink beer and talk about all of you.

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Latest reply: Feb 27, 2014

Wish You Were Here

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Latest reply: Feb 27, 2012

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The Duke of Dunstable

Researcher U45985

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