You ever tried a dish called “chicken ding”? It’s basically chicken cooked in the microwave…
I’m guessing Great British Bake Off winner Nadiya Hussain wouldn’t understand that honking old joke as – hold on to your Findus lasagne, folks – she has NEVER used a microwave oven! (Unlike my favourite US comic Steven Wright who claims he put instant coffee in his microwave and went back in time.)
I love my microwave – I use it to make the best scrambled eggs in the world, bar none – but, as someone with a (cough) healthy appetite, I’m ashamed to admit I keep looking through the wee glass door and shouting: “HURRY UP!” Tragic, eh? Hands up, folks, I’m a self-confessed fat, greedy b*****d (it’s a brave man who’d agree to share a fish supper with yours truly) and I must confess there’s only one thought on my mind ahead of the Queen’s funeral.
I bet the purvey will be magic! A fiver says we’re talking a proper sit-down, steak pie job (maybe even, as a final nod to her love of all things Scottish, with a wee bit of sausage through it). Yup, I bet Jack & Victor – no strangers to gatecrashing a funeral – would have given their last goldie for an invite to Monday’s bash. Food was at the forefront of my mind when I watched Her Majesty’s coffin being transported from Balmoral to Edinburgh.
As the cortege drove down the A90 between Dundee and Perth, I was thinking: “Surely they’ll pop into The Horn for a legendary roll ’n’ bacon?” And when the hearse crawled along The Royal Mile (hey, who hasn’t?) I noted they were just a five-minute detour from the L’Alba D’Oro – the best chippy in Scotland.
The dear old Queen deserves a great send-off (don’t forget, the poor soul was forced to attend all those Royal Variety Performances). A lot of supermarkets and high street stores will be shut on Monday while, as a mark of respect, I hear DFS won’t be having a sale. Also, when Kevin Bridges takes to the stage at The Hydro on Monday night, there’s talk of a ceasefire between members of the audience. That’s a lovely touch.
Back to the grub, though – and if it’s true we should “breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dine like a pauper”, what about this fry-up I tackled in Blackpool last week? Based on that old saying, I think it’s ME who should succeed the Queen! After demolishing this 1600-calorie feast at a cracking cafe/bar called Vintro Lounge, I did spend quite some time on the throne.
A study this week has confirmed that, contrary to popular belief, making breakfast the biggest meal of the day DOESN’T help slimmers lose weight. But who the hell cares when it tastes this great? Fried eggs ON the toast is a game-changer, the smoked bacon was deliciously crispy and my sausages were well-done as requested.
I love a sausage. In fact, I can’t look at King Charles’ fingers without salivating. (Have you clocked the size of HRH’s digits? How does he know when he’s finished a hot dog?) OK, my cholesterol might be higher than Joe Pasquale’s voice but help is at hand. As reported this week, a new obesity jab could slash the risk of Type 2 diabetes by more than 60 per cent. (My only concern now is sticking a needle in my belly and flying about the room like a burst balloon.)
I might also have found a cure for my snoring – check out the anti-snore pillow I discovered in Blackpool. How does it work? Simply hold it over your partner’s face and press firmly for 10 minutes. My only other ailment? Really bad hayfever. But I’ll tell you what, folks, I still wish I was a florist this week.
PS My favourite Queen-related story from the past seven days? Princess Anne’s son, Peter Phillips, was captaining Gordonstoun School at rugby and the referee – take a bow, Colin Baillie – greeted him for the coin toss by saying: “OK, do you want tails … or granny?” Brilliant.
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