Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Imaginary conversations

GORDON: so, you little fucker, what the fuck do you call this fucking stuff then?
ME: cheesy rice.
GORDON : I'll tell you what it fucking is, fucker, it's fucking risotto, you fucking fuck. If someone served that to me in a restaurant, do you fucking know what I'd fucking do?
ME: erm... Eat it?
GORDON : too fucking right I fucking would. It's the fucking dog's fucking bollocks. You're a fucking genius, what's the fucking secret, you fuckmaster-general?
ME: you have to put loads of cheese in, otherwise the kids won't eat it.
GORDON : that's fucking inspirational, that is. Brings a fucking tear to my fucking eye. I'm going to open a new fucking restaurant, it's going to be fucking called "fucking cheese". Cheese in fucking everything. Cheese and chips, cheese and steak, cheese au gratin, lobster cheesidor, medallions du fromage avec du fucking fromage et dans une sauce de fromage. You fucking beauty. Oi, Oliver - come here you fat-tongued mockney twat! Try this.
OLIVER: oh, that's beautiful, that. Pucka. Cushti. Sweet as a nut. My old man said follow the van.
GORDON: stop fucking dancing, this is no fucking time for a fucking knee's up you fuckety fuck-burger. Tell this fucker what the fucking secret is.
ME: cheese. You have to put loads in.
OLIVER: cor, luv a duck an' no mistake, guv'nor. Organic, free range, llama milk cheese matured in a Frenchman's jockstrap for twelve years, if I'm not mistaken. Er, I mean, jellied eels! Apples and pears, eh? Up the 'ammers!
ME: no, just some cheddar from the supermarket.
GORDON: that'll never fucking work. The fucking secret to fucking great food is fucking expensive ingredients that no fucker has fucking ever fucking heard fuck of fucking before.
ME: with cheese in.
GORDON: you fucking genius, you've fucking done it a-fucking-gain. Expensive fucking ingredients, drowned in fucking cheap cheese. Fuck-a-doodle-doo.
OLIVER: let's all ave a knees-up around the old joanna to celebrate!

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