It’s 3 O’Clock on Halloween. We have pumpkins. We have fake blood. We have sweets and chocolate. And we have to go trick-or-treating. So we have to get busy. First off we need a Jack-o’-lantern (that word is not easy to type BTW).
So busy we got. Preparation is the key. Scaring children is the objective! So to get to this:
Sent today on an email – my duty to share and hopefully cheer you up on this crappy damp windy Friday…
These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts and are
things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and
published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm
while the exchanges were taking place:
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, ‘Where am I, Cathy?’
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
Scenario: Wife is going to my sisters Hen weekend in Portsmouth (it was Portsmouth wasn’t it?). She wants to take a surprise Hen Cake and she wants me to make it.
Now for a time-poor, busy, go-getting individual like myself (mmm…) I needed a solution to this culinary problem that was a) foolproof (I was only going to get one shot at not cocking this one up) and b) quick (I naturally left it to the last minute, the night before).
So what to do? I hit Google, and typed in ‘Hen Party cakes’. It wasn’t very useful. Pictures of cakes shaped like boobs and cakes shaped like willies filled the screen. Well I wasn’t going to create an X rated cake for my sister.
But a ‘Learner’ shaped cake appeared. You know like the ‘L’ plates you have to put on your car while you learn to drive. Nice and easy.
Yes folks, I’ve discovered something new. It’s called the ‘Fatberg’.
What’s a fatberg, I hear you ask (nay, yell) at your screen. ‘Tell me! Tell me now!’ Okay.
A fatberg is like an iceberg. Except it’s not made of very cold water. No. It’s made of fat.
‘No shit, Sherlock’ some of you less than genteel readers might be thinking. ‘And where the hell do you find a fatberg?’
In London’s sewers. Yes, that’s right; sewers. You think I’m joking? Take a look at this:
Pic from County Clean