Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Tag Archives: cheese
Hey-ho peeps! How you today? I was bit sad after lose tennis match against Scot-Brit Andy Murray during Olympics, but now I stop cry and feel better. I decide maybe tennis too much for me and change job to review things. Reviews is nice job, plus I get to try stuff for free! Everyone knows that frees are fun! I start off review something that is easy, which is cheese. Cheese is one of my favourite things, especially to eat. It has other uses as well, like playing peeka-bo with the holes or having fun with cheese grater in-between tennis match. I manage to get plenty of cheese-grating practice done during my time at Wimbledon, is why people say I such grate champion. I often sprinkle grated cheese on bathroom floor so I not slip when step out of shower.
Okay, so I have favourite knife ready to cut cheese. I take cheese out of wrapping and… what this? Why there no holes in cheese? Is this work of devil? Tennis racket have holes, cheese grater have holes, so why cheddar no have holes? Let me see what box say… it say is made in Scotland! Bastard Scot-Brit, he come and steal from me again! Why he take my cheesy holes, is no fair. I wonder why box feel bit heavy, it because there too much cheese. Too much cheese at once be dangerous; I remember my granddad say he had lots of nightmares when he has too much before bedtime. I hope I no have bad dream about ugly goblin who mess my hair up, like I did when I was child.
Right, I cut cheese now. Goshness, no-hole cheese is tough! I use two hands, but still I struggle to get a good slice off. I hope it not break my cheese grater, I am down to my last one and shops no open now. Usually I eat cheese in sandwich but I worried about this heavy cheese making me burst. I know, I will cook toast for too long and then scrape off the burnt bits to balance things out. Okay, wish me luck for tasting; I best close my eyes in case it try to jump up and blind me. Hmmm, actually this heavy cheese is quite tasty. Maybe not all Scot-Brits are bad after all.
No, wait. If there no holes in cheese, what I use to keep fingers warm when I go in bed? Why do Scot-Brits want make me cry all time?
Hey there my little humanoid friends, how are you? I’m sad to say that it’s been fairly mundane for most of this week – other than a family of uglies who were desperate for an extra-large bag of cheesy sticks and a Harry Potter book, no-one has done anything outlandish so far. Mind you, that family were all in their pyjamas so I guess I get extra points for that. They wanted to pay for everything in vouchers as well, bleurgh! Call me old fashioned but I prefer my tills being filled with hard cash; there’s less chance of a coin being used as toilet paper.
Pisces, Taurus, Gemini
You know when your backdoors suddenly stop working for no reason? One morning you just wake up and the buggers won’t budge, no matter how much you prod and poke at them. Yep, that’s right, you got constipation and I recommend you give the GO-NOW ex-lax tablets a shot. Aisle 14, shelf 5.
Cancer, Leo, Scorpio
I’m feeling generous so if you are moving house this week I will let you borrow one of the shopping trolleys that have been left stranded out in the car park. Don’t go abusing this offer though – I don’t want you returning it with a wobbly wheel or using it as a BBQ grill. And if I catch you dumping it in a river I’ll come and break your legs. Capiche?
Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra
Those damn kids have been at the fire extinguishers again and got water everywhere. I swear, one day I will refill them with fart gas and THEN we will see who has the last laugh. Anyway, if you need to mop up any spills then I recommend the tea towels as they are on offer at the moment. They are right next to the beef jerky corn dogs over on aisle 20.
Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries
Argh, who knocked down that big stack of baked beans? I bet it was that miserable git in the wheelchair again, he’s a disgrace to humanity and I swear he steals things as well. If you need legal advice, check out the ambulance chaser who hovers around the toilet waiting for someone to slip over. And stop looking at me, I hate you.
Hello everyone. Most of you will know me as the world-famous purveyor of all things cheese. And boy do I love cheese. Cheese on toast, cheese and onion sandwiches, and even cheesecake: I love it. I paid a visit to a cheese shop in London once and found myself feeling very disappointed with the experience. The entire place stank like a baby’s nappy and the man behind the counter started waffling on and on about cheese-making techniques. Steel needles are used to make Stilton? Who cares? Just give me a lump of cheddar and piss off.
I have noticed that the world economy seems to be in dire straits and some people predict the collapse of the entire Euro zone. What are your thoughts on this matter?
I recently came back from a trip in Europe and quite frankly those French border guards are utter wankers – no matter how much I tried reasoning with them they wouldn’t let me bring back my collection of vintage erotic videos. Those Gallic perverts practically invented pornography so why are they are so prudish at the border? Anyway. The economy is a bit like a cake: you need to let it bake for just long enough, but not too long, otherwise you’re in the shit. Imagine that the eggs are the banks, the grains of flour are the people, and the mixing bowl is where your mean old bastard granddad buried his money before he died. Yeah, everything is easier with an analogy. Right, so the banks are fragile like the eggs. Actually, did you know that you can spin an egg to see if it’s gone bad? No word of a lie, that. So yeah, spin the banks and if they wobble around too much it probably means they’ve gone bad. I get all my eggs fresh from the farm so maybe you should do the same.
I keep reading articles in the newspaper about carbon tax this and carbon tax that. As an owner of a petrol-powered lawnmower is it something I should be concerned with?
A fair question. Back in my younger days I used to open all my tins by hand using my Swiss army penknife. This resulted in me building up quite an impressive bit of muscle in my forearm but after a while I got fed up with it, so these days I tend to use electric tin openers and, like you, I became worried about my carbon tax bill. For all I know this tin opener of mine might actually be petrol-powered; out on the oil rigs they generate their electricity using gas, so it stands to reason that some clever dick might have figured out how to use petrol to generate electricity in top-end tin openers. I actually popped down to my local hardware store to enquire about this. The pervert behind the counter – he has a beard so he must be a pervert – said he didn’t know. In the end I threw the tin opener away and now I just buy frozen sweetcorn instead of the tinned stuff.
Hello! Susan here, your local Avon lady. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise me as I am used to that now. No-one ever sees me; it’s part of the Avon way. Late at night I will skulk my way up to your porch and drop the latest catalogue onto your doorstep – face down for dog owners, face up otherwise – before melting my way back into normal society… to wait. Next week I’ll be back at the same time, primed and ready to pounce on any filled-out forms. Oho, what’s this? Mr Sampson at number 56 wants a tea cosy? Watson, something is afoot!
Oh, Mr Sampson what happened? I’m more than familiar with your usual tastes – did you think this would fool me? Why, only last week I was hiding under the table as you ate dinner with your family. No, you didn’t see me because that’s the Avon way. I confess to having a spot of bother with your dog but I was forewarned by the catalogue being face up. As I peered and sniffed my way around under your house I couldn’t help but notice that you had used the purple Homer Simpson cheese grater for the cheese salad… and I shed a tear of joy.
Yes, for I well remember the day you ordered it way back in 2008 and I took a photocopy of the order form for prosperity’s sake. Order number AV1389-0A – look, it’s even tattooed onto my hand because that’s the Avon way. Last month I was watching as you sat on your dear lonesome in the pub. You ordered a Guinness and once again you failed to chastise the barman for not pouring it correctly… I wept for you. When you went to the toilet I approached your table and turned over your beer mat. I put it face up as you did not have your dog with you before remembering that you’re still a dog owner and turned it back over again. I battled with my inner self for days afterwards… such is the emotional price of having a philosophy.
Oh, Mr Sampson, how I adore thee.