Cooking.

A staff meeting on Thursday is the balloon full of piss on the horizon. It is not going to be fun. I am fairly certain that at some point in the next month, I shall be leaving the pub. Either through my own choice or not, but I doubt I can stay there. I am fast becoming really quite sick of the regime.

A case in point being yesterday. One table of nine, I was on top of it, until he started nit-picking. While i’m trying to serve. FUCKING wait until i’ve finished serving a table before you moan about it, you prick.

I don’t care. I had a good afternoon anyway. I met up with a good friend quite by coincidence. His name is Andy. He is a hotel owner who spends most of his time abroad. Quite by chance, he was over for the day, and wandered into my world. I was getting drunk at the Buttermarket. I did that fairly well. Andy is one of the intelligent ones. He is a former teacher, I think. I cannot remember. He has a mutual friend called Larry, who is a lecturer. Larry is a gentle, lovely Irish chap who is exceedingly smart. He once spoke of my articulation in glowing terms, and advised me to look into university. He is a good contact to have. I may have to seek him out again.

Today, I have been sadly noting the ongoing London riots. I don’t have much to say, but if you’re from there, please be safe, and keep your chins up.

I’ve also been making a chili. It’s into the simmering mode. If you would like to know how to make my chilli, then it is simple. Finely and deftly dice some red onion, and drop it into heated oil, frying the very bollocks from it, until it is nicely sweated. Add pepper if you want. The vegetable with the stalk in it. That one. Any colour is fine. Add mince, brown it off while teasing it with a spoon. Empty a can of rich chopped tomato into it, as well as tomato puree. Stir it. As you would lightly tease and stroke a bosom. Add kidney beans. Beef stock, and a little balsamic. Add some chili, to taste. Simmer the fucker for an hour. Serve.

Thanks for that. Eat chili. Have sex in an elevator. Get a blowjob from the moon. Bye.

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About neilstilwell

Abseiling into trouble, a sewer rat staring at the stars. Disgusting. You can assist my search for the one ring by buying a Kindle version of this diary from here. http://www.amazon.co.uk/frozen-fridge-Zoomeister-Diaries-ebook/dp/B00C426DD0/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366481719&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=a+frozen+turd+in+a+hot+frudge It has some other stuff in it, and a dreadful cover.
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