Avatar The most infuriating fruit

The survey results are in. The winner’s name is being carved onto the award. Pomegranate is the most infuriating fruit. It’s a fact. You know it’s true.

  1. Its name is clearly pronounced “pom-e-gran-it” but for some reason it’s spelled with the letters “ate” at the end. Ridiculous.
  2. The outer skin is designed to only come off in a thousand leathery flakes.
  3. The edible bits are approximately one million tiny bloblets of fruit. Before you can eat them you have to excavate them all in a sort of miniature mining project. This takes absolutely forever.
  4. When you eat the edible bits you find that the nice juicy tasty bit takes up only about half of it and the rest is a woody seed that gets stuck in your teeth.
  5. The edible bits are actually called “arils” which is just pretentious. Gaaaaah. I hate it.

On the other hand they do taste nice.

Avatar Lumpy Milkshake

Most of my posts for the last couple of weeks have been about food, so I thought I’d try something different and tell you all a wee story about a milkshake:

Once upon a time there was a handsome, kind, gentle person called, erm, let’s say Kieran. He decided that because he’s such a nice person he would buy his friend a drink at lunchtime and took a stroll to Asda to peruse the choices for sale.

As it happens, it is funnier to buy a weird drink than a normal one. It was a crying shame that the awful mango and passionfruit Frijj drink was sold out so, as a second choice, it seemed a good idea to pick the cherry bakewell milkshake. At sixty pence how could he say no?

His work friend was “delighted” to receive such a “generous” and “tasty” gift. He was so “delighted” that he only took two sips and decided it was too nice to drink, and left it on the side of his desk over the weekend.

How surprised the two colleagues were then to return on Monday to find that the milkshake had turned not only into a solid but some kind of funky, disgusting, yellow scouring pad solid.

As a testament to the power of science, I have included two of the same picture up so it looks as though you’re looking at them through a pair of binoculars. Because that’s cool.

One day I’ll write about other things.

Avatar Sexatronic eviction

Gentlemen, we have a crisis. Sexatronic – my oddly named neighbour and subject of a hit single by The Papples – is about to be evicted from her ground floor hovel overlooking Church Road.

I suggest you do as I have done and write to your MP (remembering to CC the Queen) demanding that the Government steps in to prevent this impending tragedy.

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Avatar Trekkin’ Abroad – France (Part 4)

Having discovered a secret tunnel under the sea, I passed quietly across the border into France undetected, arriving in their capital city, “Paris”, in the early afternoon. I took an apartment in the 16th arrondissement and started my new life cycling around parks and examining museums for clues. Nothing. Then one day, in the lift, someone else rode all the way up to the 8th floor with me. An enemy agent? One of their informers? I couldn’t be sure.

I packed my bags and left early the next morning, covering my trail with stories of a poorly relative in Geneva. It was a bittersweet departure; my apartment had the finest coffee machine I’ve experienced in recent years and I couldn’t fit it into my suitcase. I will remember it always.

I took a train somewhere, anywhere, ending up in the far west of the country where I spent the last two weeks hiding in a barn before negotiating my return to Plymouth on a fishing smack, hidden under a pile of nets and fish.

I’m never leaving England again. I am a scarred man. I still smell a bit like fish. So much for France.

Avatar The Fist of Justice

It was a nice evening. Everyone was there, everyone was having a nice time. Some of them had even managed to get hold of a drink and were feeling a little merry. Around the table tiny foods were consumed and the party spirit was rampant.

Suddenly the picture changed. Swinging through the air and landing on the table was the Evil Minion. His pallid, sickly yellow skin and greasy, limp hair were a sickening sight. Some of those with weaker stomachs had to turn away. He had landed squarely in front of the Partymaster, the Birthday Boy himself, and was presenting his foul dungarees as an unwashed challenge to us all. In front of him, on the table, was what looked like a small brown cake, but we knew it was really an explosive device, set to blow the whole deal sky high.

Mr Chang, the brave party thrower, was quick with his Samurai breadknife, beheading the Evil Minion in one smooth movement. He didn’t stand a chance to detonate his destructive delicacy. The show was over. A second blow bisected what remained of his torso, spilling hideous guts everywhere.

The emergency services arrived to cordon off the scene and the party dispersed into the Leeds night, some being rushed to hospital for trauma, and others the walking wounded, safe tonight but consigned to a lifetime of therapy to help them through their harrowing ordeal. As I got up to leave the scene, I dealt a blow for all that was good in the world and all that was right. My strong fist of justice obliterated what was left of the Minion’s grisly remains. I fisted that Minion good.

For as long as there are good people like me in the world, evil will not prevail.