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ogm11!!1 dinner is served!11
Thursday, August 14th, 2008 at 2:11 am | Write a comment
Ahoy there, casual lovers
With his wedding hurtling towards us with dizzying speed, Joe has discovered that to get married in this country costs £103.50. That covers everything you need – vicar, poisonous gossip, scuffles at the buffet, and so forth – and seems a bit steep, really. It seems especially pricey when you consider that the cost of legally kicking a naked midget in the UK is just £20.
This disturbing information was unearthed by Joe’s brother in the half-hearted pursuit of adult entertainment for the stag night. I myself find the whole concept of strippers a bit, I dunno, ’80s. A stripping midget which then allows itself to be kicked for twenty quid (presumably per go) is the kind of thing that would make you want to chuckle and cut your wrists at the same time. I dunno if you get a run up like in rugby, or whether the midget just scampers about the place like R2D2 while you try and tag the little blighter, or what. Hopefully we’ll never know, as Joe has expressly stated that his stag night is to be like most other Sundays at the Duke of Wellington – ie a bunch of traders from various London markets drinking heavily and, in my case, bullying Chris out of his share of the roast that Uncle Vinny always makes for us. I once did this by saying ‘Chris you’re not hungry Chris you’re not hungry Chris you’re not hungry’ over and over again for nearly two minutes untll he gave me his dinner.
I do have a
verging-on-the-autistic attitude to food, and it stems from childhood. I had an astonishingly impoverished early life, during which my granddad’s somewhat contradictory culinery advice was to eat everything as quickly as possible ‘before some other bugger gets it’, while once famously refusing bread cut diagonally – instead of the classic horizontal slicing – because he ‘wasn’t a bloody ponce.’ Now that is working class. During my glamour years on the dole in Slough, my mate Ejaz would take me out for mercy dinners at the Hungry Horse on Uxbridge Road, where he observed that I would glare around the room as I took each mouthfull of, I dunno surf n turf or whatever, in the manner of ‘a fucking hyena.’ Happy, awful, days.
Even now, my favourite ingredient in any meal is ‘lots’. And I really do mean lots – I once for real had an eating competition with a proper card carrying bulemic and only lost on a penalty shoot out whereby we chose each others’ desserts and I came up against the horror of tiramisu for the first time and just couldn’t eat it. I remember feeling really drunk walking over the railway bridge by what used to be the Printers Devil pub in Slough just from the sheer amount of calories my poor internal organs were trying to metabolise – five or six thousand of them at least, I should think. Once at the pub, the very action of listing the various items consumed in this great contest to a hushed and awestruck audience was enough to make me very copiously sick. Still, I had obviously impressed the bulemic, as we ended up going out with each other for six years or, working on recommended daily intake for an adult male, five and a half million calories.
Aug 18th, 2008
4:46 pm
I also enjoy "lots". Loads, in fact. Don’t know where I put it all. I could take you on this: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/olympics/article4530008.ece
Aug 19th, 2008
12:15 pm
I like breakfast a great deal. My weekend market breakfast is three pitta breads , with two fried eggs, a thick slice of cheese, mushrooms and tomato sauce in each one. Mental.
When I’m going through a phase of doing weekdays, I have two doughnut sfrom Barry the Cakes and eat them by the Lock, invariably chatting to a jogger called Jenny who is warming down from running at around the same time. We talked about herons on the canal yesterday, it was nice.
Aug 21st, 2008
1:09 am
Your tacktics of gaining food are truley marvelous! Would this Chris be the One From SCD, just across the east yard?
Speaking of which, i havent seen either of you, or jeff, in a while, twice ive been and none of you have been there. As the Yanks might say, "whats up with that?"
Aug 21st, 2008
2:09 am
Yes, Chris from SCD. Just bully him if you want anything. I do it all the time, beats working.
Chris only does Saturday at Camden, and Sunday over at Back Yard Market which, despite sounding like a gay club night, is actually a market, at Brick Lane.
At the moment, the good ship Griefjunkie is mooring in the East Yard on Friday Saturday Sunday and Monday, although I should imagine we’ll lose the Mondays pretty soon.
Jeff is always around at the weekend, so you must have just missed him or something. His old man is over at the moment, which is nice.
Aug 21st, 2008
7:02 pm
Hmm, i would try this, except that i like all you lovely traders just a wee bit too much to try and bother any free stuff off your stalls.
Maybe i’ll drag Grace down to Brick Lane one not-horrendously horrible sunday afternoon before the rugby season starts again.
and was it always only friday to monday? it has only just occured to me that i’d never been on any other day… i think.
i hear jeff is back on friday from some guy watching his stall while hes gone.
i’ll be down one day soon, with or without anyone else. holidays can get a wee bit boring.
Aug 22nd, 2008
1:26 am
Yeah it’s alright over at Brick Lane, a bit poncey for my liking, but they have a nice scene going on over there if you like Banksy prints and olives.
Technically, we only actually do Saturday and Sunday, although I’ve always done Fridays as well as they can be quite useful trade wise (which takes pressure off the weekend) and Mondays are pretty quiet, but get you a billion bonus points with the management, as it helps fill the Yard up.
Yeah, Jeff’s in tomorrow, I shall I’m sure be seeing him wander through while me and Martin are setting up, with his Pret a Manger coffee and his hangover.
Aug 22nd, 2008
3:10 am
Im greek and therefore should love olives, also salad, lemon and MEAT! but i dont, i like meat but not lemon, salad or olives.
i might come down tomorow (by which i mean friday) or monday, and drag one of my un-willing camden virgin friends with me. that is if im not in dorset.
and if im definately not, it might also be the weekend.
and by the way, who is martin?
Aug 22nd, 2008
7:16 pm
Martin is the bloke who sells jewellery next to us. Nice fella, aggressive haircut though.