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Tuesday, 13 May 2008


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Ow! Sorry to hear that. I'm sure you'll be back and blogging in no time.

I think it's counter-productive to blast The Sainted Memsahib at exactly the time she's your only hope for keeping afloat.

Get well soon - and check your email!

My wife got food poisoning from whitebait at a pub recently. She phoned Public Health and they sent in an ace investigator. She phoned us to say, in tones of outrage, that did we know that the whitebait were neither gutted nor head-and-tailed? AAAArgh.

DM - Sweet Lord Above!! That just about sums up the cowboy chef mentality. In the past such people were restricted to preparing simple pub grub like soup, baked potatoes and hamburgers. Nowadays though, pubs seem to be determined to compte with restaurants without going to the trouble of hiring a proper chef, resulting in the likes your whitebait incident. As a former kitchen porter and short order cook, I can honestly say that at least half the people I worked with should never have been allowed within a mile of a commercial food outlet.

Ummm, ill man, I think the point of dearieme's post is that that's exactly how whitebait are supposed to be served... ;)


Do like the Memsahib says, and get well soon.

Rumbled for the ignorant oaf I am, and not for the first time either.

(looks embarrassed, skulks away.......)

Oh, I wouldn't worry. The idea of serving tiny fish cooked with heads on and ungutted is such an odd concept that most people don't realise, even when they are eating them!

They are, however, absolutely delicious.. :)

It got better. When my wife explained that the whitebait had been served correctly (though with added human faecal matter, presumably), the Ace Investigator said that she hadn't known that, since she doesn't eat fish, what with being a vegetarian.

Ye gods....

Thank you all for your good wishes and, better still, your good humour, although it didn't help my subterfuge earlier in the week in which I pretended to be much more feeble than I was in an effort to keep the steady supply of cups of tea and 'choccie biccies' going for as long as possible. The shouts of laughter from up here in my eyrie in the attic had to be explained away as the stifled cries of pain from a brave but uncomplaining invalid! Suddenly the tea and biccies disappeared, so I realised it was time to, er, 'get better'.

Glad to see you're a little perkier.

Thanks, 'DG', my bile ducts are now flowing freely!

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