In Fudge We Trust

If there’s one thing that can stop me mid chong of my morning duck bacon, it’s those fancy pants articles in major newspapers where some minor celebrity famous for being pretty and compliant are asked what they eat in a day while some po-faced, wee drinking nutritionist runs a commentary along side.
They always look like this-

Day on a plate with Daisy O’Posie.
(Founder/manager of Fuzzy Pumper Hair and Gym)

Wake up- Drink teaspoon of over night Tulip sweat. Fart in bottle for later.

Breakfast- Forage for nuts and fairy beans in woodland garden.

Mid Morning – Sprinkle fart with organic bee gooch honey. Mmmmm….

Lunch- Eat bowl of leaves with added chlorophyll off a photocopy of the Dalai Lama’s hat.

Afternoon snack- Indulge myself by walking past chocolate shop and taking a quick whiff.

Dinner- Frilly grilled artichoke tits with oxygen fry and a glass of steam with small zap of de-volted electricity for afters.

Late night snack- Lick television when the Ice Cream ads come on.

Then the nutritionist , Dr Righteous Shinyclit, will write this-

Daisy’s basic diet is fairly good. Fairy beans are an excellent source of vital tinsels. I am concerned that bee gooch honey contains actual food and would also suggest that she boil her oxygen rather than fry it. Her afternoon indulgence is fine as long as she limits it to Leap Years and blows her nose afterwards. Daisy also needs to keep an eye on her static electricity intake and may want to switch to the lower current option of a poke with a sharp stick.

Bloody Nora. Do people really live like this? Really?
I’m so far out of the food group loop I’m practically my own donut and this sort of malarkey just goes to verify my theory I am a lost Sasquatch.


Day on a plate with The Lost Sasquatch
(Plant Manager at Spring Valley water pipes).

Early Morning- Wake up. Wipe cheeseburger off face.

Breakfast- Blear into kitchen and make coffee. Jitter like Elvis off the bennies. Experience panic attack due to coffee dependency and eat dry spaghetti to calm down. See if there’s any cake anywhere. Eat cake. Seize fresh coffee and make guzzling noises. Rejoice that I can drink through my nostrils.

Mid Morning snack - Stumble down in ill-fitting pants to Curly’s FaceFull (my local café) and order something crammed with more bacon than an American sit-com called “The Bacon Years”. Order more coffee. Dip bacon in coffee. Sneakily squirt weapons grade hot sauce on the bacon. Gasp and bleed from the eyeballs.

Lunch- Head down to Plushi Sushi and see if they’ll do me an octopus. Squirt more chilli sauce on the fried tentacles. Apologise to elderly during heat-induced fit. Catch taxi round the block to Lionel’s FudgeWorld and order a FudgePack. Write myself a card and scoff half the box. Buy dipping chorizos for taxi ride home.

Mid afternoon snack- Be consistently amazed that Wagon Wheels still deliver in spades. Reconsider possibility of loving God now they come in 12 packs.

Dinner- Open cookbook up to “Best Intention Salad” then ring Malaysian Bob at the GutzHut. We’ve got a system now where Bob answers the phone and I say “It’s me” then I hear Bob scream out to his missus “We putting another one through Uni, Mavis!”. Then he hangs up the phone. They know the drill. I pick up Bob’s top tucker in a heated wheelbarrow and consume it reclined in my Cookie Monster beanbag with a side order of beer and Get Smart.

Late night snack- Finish gig and stumble home full of brightly coloured alcohols. Fall asleep chewing cheeseburger. Leave fries in underpants to preserve crispness.

Now, God knows what Dr. Shinyclit would have to say about calorific Hiroshima.
Probably take me out the back and put me on the ol’ Yella diet.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry.