It’s Dry January, folks. So what else does Dry January mean? It means pretentious semi-alcoholic twats like myself start saying things like, “oh, you aren’t doing Dry January?”, or “are you at least doing Dry January minus the weekends?” in a totally patronising way, before adding, “I’m doing Dry Before …
Here we go again. Time to write more claptrap that you are instantly going to forget and ignore. Don’t worry too much, I’m not going to start talking about my New Year’s resolutions. It’s just another roast dinner review – this time of The Flask, in the subsumed London village …
The eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed that I didn’t go for a roast dinner this Sunday. To be frank, I’ve…did anyone else use to call the “Talk To Frank” phone number when off their head at 6am and ask where the nearest drug dealer was? Not just me? Good. …
You know when you are doing something important but are without at least one of your senses? For example, trying to hold a glass of water with a really bad case of pins and needles. Or maybe being blindfolded when having your nipples sucked so you aren’t able to see …
Myself and my most trusted roast accomplice set out to have a tourist day on Sunday, by walking over Tower Bridge (the glass ceiling thing), so that we could practice our Instagram selfies, maybe taking us to the hallowed point of being able to sell any old shit like Belle …
Fuck Democracy. That was the subject of an e-mail I received last week along with someone’s life story, who for some reason has a disdain of democracy. I don’t quite know how anyone could have anything but the highest respect for democracy as of late. Not only was he suggesting …
Ladies and Gentlemen. This week, in the national interest, I set out to review a Sunday roast at The Foresters Arms in Hampton. Chosen by random number generator which apparently according to arch-Brexiter, Steve Baker, is a suitable way to choose a Prime Minister. There are many ways I could …
You may recall that some time ago, I became rather upset that I didn’t get any roast potatoes when I had a roast dinner at Temper. I wrote to them. ****** Dear Sir/Madam There are a lot of things missing from my life. Perhaps most importantly, Margaret Thatcher. Barely a …
Welcome to the latest episode of what shite can I write to make a roast dinner sound interesting. Though I definitely have something to say about the food this week. Maybe I’ll just crack on with what I’m supposed to be doing – reviewing the roast dinner at the East …
Any idea how I should start this blog post? No, me neither. I guess I should start with a thank you to everyone that nominated and/or voted in the People’s Roast Vote. Hopefully you found it no more boring or annoying than I did. The result was hardly a surprise, …