Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Cooking with Uncle Frank.

William liked cooking but the lessons with Uncle Frank were getting a bit weird.

Uncle Frank was a squat, balding little man with a strong Yorkshire accent; nobody knew why as he had lived his entire life in Thornbury. A firm believer in homeopathy he kept a Shetland pony overnight in the spare bathroom and smelled faintly of dung.

Each cooking lesson began with what Uncle Frank described as “the traditional abusing of the eggs” whereby Frank and William opened the fridge door to hurl oaths and abuse at the unsuspecting chicken by-products.

The main part of the lesson then usually consisted of William attempting to master the finer points of French cuisine as Uncle Frank shouted instructions from behind a door of tempered steel for, as he explained, “safety reasons”.

Today, however, was to be different.

“Lad,” said Frank proudly, “today we make pound cakes”.

Pound cakes, queried William.

“Pound cakes”, said Frank “hundreds of ‘em. In that way we can understand t' true nature of t’ pound cake.”

William thought Uncle Frank reminded him of that Asian bloke from the Karate Kid – provided the Asian bloke from the Karate Kid looked like a squat, balding Yorkshire man who smelled faintly of dung.

The following week William took up bass guitar lessons instead.

31 comments:

Perseus said...

Right on.

Fucking eggs.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Eggs are evil and must be eaten.

squib said...

I've always wanted a Shetland pony in my bathroom

Puss In Boots said...

Ew. Eggs. I'd yell abuse at them too. Smart man, that Uncle Frank.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Cripes, I hadn't realised there were so many eggophobes here!

The drawback, Squib, is that you would smell faintly of dung.

squib said...

I would smell faintly of dung and Coco Chanel

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Coco Chanel a bit on the whiffy side then, Squib?

wari lasi said...

I would smell faintly of dung and Coco Chanel

Ramon beat me to it Squib, I think Coco would be on the nose a bit. As an aside I read somewhere that she invented the bob by accident when a hair style or something went wrong.

And what the hell did the eggs do wrong? Besides coming first of course.

squib said...

um...I don't get it

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Coco's been dead for more than 30 years, Squib.

I suspect she's no longer fragrant as once she was.

squib said...

I meant the eau de parfum, you fools

Melba said...

I got it squib. I also got Ramon.

I thought this was going to be a Bob piece, but no.

So, it's a political allegory, yes?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I meant the eau de parfum, you fools

I suppose that would be more attractive than "Rotting Corpse"

eat my shorts said...

Eggs are evil and must be eaten.

I want to say something smart-assery about devilled eggs here, but I'm too lazy/tired/much of a numptie to think of anything.

By the way friends, I do make wicked devilled eggs (but not as good as my nan's). So I've been told.

Kettle said...

I'm with Melba, Ramon. Is this some kind of gastronomised 'Animal Farm'? Is the egg Malcolm Turnbull? Or is Malcolm Turnbull a shetland pony that smells faintly of dung and Coco Chanel? Or are you saying that Squib is in fact Malcolm Turnbull?

Oh why, Ramon! Why can't Squib be Bob Brown!

On the other hand, is this just a story about a crazy uncle of yours?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I have no idea what this story is about.

It just popped, fully formed, into my head yesterday morning.

I might need to alter my meds.

squib said...

It just popped, fully formed, into my head yesterday morning

like an egg, Ramon?

Melba and Kettle, I was also looking for hidden political messages. I almost googled 'Liberal Party egg abuse'

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

That happens to me all the time Squib.

You're a fellow scribbler, does that happen to you?

squib said...

which one, Ramon?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Fully formed stories just popping into your head, Squib.

Just like eggs.

Evil Overlord said...

or perhaps in Squibs case, like Athena, Goddess of Wisdom

squib said...

Not usually fully formed, no. Clearly my muse is a lazy bint

EO, are you suggesting I have owl shit on my head?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

My problem is that my muse has ADHD, to the extent that she's bouncing on the bed at 3AM saying "oooh, oooh, why don't we do a post about giant shellfish".

It also explains why many of my posts have a slightly manic edge.

Evil Overlord said...

*ahem* deepest apologises Squib, if I have inadvertently implied you have owl shit for brains

oooh, oooh, oooh, giant shellfish! tell us a story tell us a story

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

What, Evil, you want the giant shellfish story?

Aphra will be pleased, she sulks when I knock back her suggestions.

Mr E Discharge said...

Aphra....

Odd name for an imaginary freind.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Aphra is the name of my muse, Mr E.

She's currently in the spare room of my mind, eating peanuts, picking her teeth and wondering when we can have the first beer of the day.

Mr E Discharge said...

A spare room in your mind?

Very classy!

All I have is old couch that folds out into a futon, left behind by some ideas I had the mid seventies.

squib said...

EO, I forgive you

My muse is called Xanadu and she lives in a disco roller rink inside my hippocampus. It has blue carpet on the walls and ceiling

Mainly I don't like the way she sticks chewing gum behind her ear and leaves lolly wrappers lying around

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I think you've got a dud muse there, Squib.

squib said...

They don't make them like they used to