Deambulating along Currynation Street in a heady daze, the ale froth and fermented mothballs of my afternoon hufffing session began to take their toll.
It wasn't long before my long-suffering stomach started invoking the names and honourary titles of legendary foodies like Raymond Oliver, Epicurus and Jay Rayner. Not to palaver my palabras, I was hungry enough to raise an orphaned pony, ride it like a used fleshlight and fatten it up on Tesco ready meals before gorging on its inanimate fly-ridden corpse. Ah!
But how to ease that pesky belly rumble that is more familiar than step-incest?
My pregnant wallet had the answer in the form of a question:
"We've been shammed by Northern Rock, scammed by Western Union, and slammed by Southern Rail. Whatcha say we go and get jammed by Easton Taste?"
I complimented her on her excellent taste (whilst correcting her illogical and glaringly erroneous spelling) and she rattled with salubrious joyfulness.
About a yuga and a half later, I was wobbling at the end of a table on a sturdy highchair ordering bhunas and bhajis like some sort of deranged eunuch. Perusing the drinks menu after such thirsty bellowing, I was left with the distinct impression that I had stumbled into a B.Y.O.B. (Bring Your Own Binge) establishment, without a single drop to tickle my kidneys. As luck would have it, my wallet's waters broke and I quickly drained her mephitic inebrience into a gleaming glass before taking a galloping gulp. Then I assembled my knife and fork, kissing my hanking wand (a handy spoonerism) and cacking half a lung in the process.
I sent my plights a-roving when the plates started arriving. The other patrons could smell my quickfire burst of appreciation but it was soon masked by even finer aromas like steaming coriander and red stuff. Their rogan josh made me the life and soul of the chapatti.
It may be called E.T. but there's no need to phone home. Instead, give your nan a call and try and blag a bitcoin or two for another vault of lime pickle.
And the wallet? She gave birth to a beautiful 10% tip that weighed only 2 pounds...
dead now of course. read more