if Gordon Ramsay,
was to come into my kitchen,
there'd no doubt be a knife fight.
me and him.
we'd be squared off.
i'd be chopping, dicing, slicing and paring and he'd be criticizing and yelling about my prowess as a chef,
and about the state of my kitchen while i cook.
i'd be shaking and sweating.
i have to confess,
when i cook there's blood and snot all over the place,
there's pots, pans, trays, foil, peel, pulp and stems,
it's a mess.
i use every dish/plate/pot/pan that i possess.
gordon would be FREAKING.
the air would be blue.
he'd be in my face yelling at me and cursing me out for my habits and my techniques.
'What the EFF are you EFFING doing?"
and i'd be reduced to a quivering mess of snotty tears.
Gordon would sit down and taste my pigs in blankets,
and my roasted squash,
and my roast potatoes,
and the steepy peas
and Kee's cheesy mash,
and the stuffing
(ok it's out of a packet, but He doesn't need to know that)
and he'd be like,
"Wow! this is EFFING awesome Clippy.
You are the queen of the kitchen.
I'm giving you your own personal michelin star."
and i'd be like.
"you know what Gordon? "
"go and eff yourself."
"yeah, You. that's right."
and he'd be like BEGGING me for my turkey and stuffing recipe and guess what, i wouldn't even give it to him.
because sometimes he's really mean and it will do him good to taste his own medicine.
and i don't mean the turkey.