This August just gone, there was a "Food Festival" down here in gay old Plymouth, so me and her indoors decided to
have a day out - off we bimbles down town for a look-see. Well - there's all manner of food stalls selling all manner
of organic produce, and most of the stall holders are tempting the punters in with free samples of their wares. Anyway,
we're having a pleasant time, nibbling on free bits of cheese, biscuits, moose, elk, water buffalo, kangaroo....even
thimble sized plazzie cups of free ale! The weather was pleasant, and we eventually parks up alongside a stall that
specialises in dips, jellies, sauces and liquids based around every ****ing chilli on the planet. They've got little
saucers of the stuff - all marked thus: Mild - Warm - Hot - Very Hot, and **** OFF you moron you shouldn't be
touching this one. Now what's a man to do eh?
I get my half a free Jacobs Cream Cracker and dunks it in the one on the end that says *For Stupid People Only*.
I yaffles the cracker and the sauce in one gulp and the wife says, "What's it taste like then?"
Not wanting to appear as El Supreme Wimpo I states that it was "Fairly hot with a bit of a kick" and that she
probably wouldn't like it. "Oh? Okay", she replies.
Five seconds later, my ****ing head's melting, there's rivers of sweat pouring off my bald spot straight into my
watering eyes and my mouth feels like it's full of napalm.
Act normal. Talk normal - I'm saying to myself........try not to SCREAM!
By now I'm blind, cannot see where I'm going and the temperature from my neck up is probably round the 500
degrees farenheit mark and I REALLY want to stick a lip-lock on a ****ing iceberg.
Valiantly trying to act as if nothing is going on , I amble to the next stall...feeling my way along the outside of
the stalls, and fortunately for me the next one along was a beer tent so I demanded a cold pint of any ****ing
thing they had....immediately.
The bloke serves us up and says, "You've just been to the Chilli stall 'aint you?".
I ignored his comment and chugged the beer (probably Doom Bar) down in less than one and contemplated returning
to the chilli salesman with a view to smacking his ****ing teeth in. You could kill people with stuff like that. That
dipping sauce was ****ing lethal.
Instead - I went back and purchased a bottle of this nuclear ****-knows-what-was-in-it sauce, and when I got back home,
I mixed some of it in with a tin opf cheap cat food and put a plateful in the back and front gardens. The last time ****ing
Tiddles and Co. Ltd visited my gardens for a midnight shit, they didn't have a midnight scran to look forward to, but
tonight was different. I knew them furry feline bastards (a.k.a. other peoples pets) would not be able to resist some free
scoff....all I had to do was wait for the concoction to take effect.
So.....one furry shit-machine went up the side of my house like Spidercat on steroids and his mate did an amazing back-flip,
straight into the clutches of a rotary clothes drier, on which he nearly hung himself. The cats also made some interesting
****ing noises as they hauled their (probably) about to explode burning arses over the back fence as well, and I'm guessing
that wherever they went for a covert dump that night...it was none too solid and would be an unpleasant surprise first
thing in the morning for someone else for a change.
Okay - I'm stupid for daring to man up and eat the chilli dipping sauce from the centre of the Earth.
But cats are ****ing stupid as well.