Digital Raven (digitalraven) wrote,
Digital Raven

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I was suffering, though the dog of the hair that bit me helped. As did a tried and true bacon'n'soss butty.

For every foreigner that doesn't understand the concept, here we go. Vegetarians, bog off. This will only sicken you. Take four slices of thick white bread, the best you can find. Don't skimp. Four rashers of best thick back bacon (seemingly unavailable in America, the best that's out there has twice as much hideously gooey fat as our worst streaky... see if you can find some proper English or Danish bacon on import). Two sausages approximately 12 inches in length. British sausages these, not German or anything else. One bottle HP sauce. Butter or butter-tasting substitute.

Butter the bread. Grill the sausages and bacon. Once done (the bacon should be crispy, the sausages should be golden brown), slice the sausages in half, then slice each half length ways to get one long, flat edge. Put one sausage each, flat edges down, onto two of the slices of bread. Add HP sauce. Two rashers of bacon go on top of the sausages and HP sauce. Add more HP sauce to taste, add top to butty, shove it in your pie-hole. Serves one, or four Southern ponces.

Of course, this morning when I woke up was hardly the ideal time to make one of these beauties. Somehow, last night, I manages to get through half a bottle of vodka. This morning, I wasn't hungover. Curiouser and curiouser. AI lecture at ten prevented me thinking too much, didn't get back to the house before one. Found myself sausages in the freezer, the good ones, so figured the only thing to do was to eat them. There was bacon in the fridge, so what the fuck. It was only out of date a month ago and my fridge is a damn site colder than most people's. So me and John scarfed the bacon (it didn't smell, it hadn't gone green or anything like that) and haven't yet suffered any ill symptoms. So as I hadn;t paid for the bacon, I was happy.

Mmmm, food.

But, yeah, that's most of what's happened since last I updated. Got shitfaced, woke up, boring lecture, proper food. Oh, the beard's back. I used to get into a habit of growing a goatee every four weeks, then shaving it off and starting again. First week of having proper fur on my chin, this one. Fear my evil goatee, for I shall prove once and for all that I am the incarnation of sexy badass evilness. Because I am, and you love me for it.

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