PANCAKE
DAY
RECIPE # 3
Pancake Day (Shrove Tuesday) is the day which precedes Lent, a time of the year when you humans traditionally eat everything in the pantry and then stop eating for ages and ages because of Jesus.
As I understand it, you take part in this farcical charade out of some kind of forced empathy. You do it so you can spend the rest of the year feeling like you understand what it's like to go without life's staple pleasures instead of feeling like a bunch of overfed, gluttonous cunts - which is what you are. You have no idea what it's like to struggle to find a meal. (Yesterday I ate egg fried rice out of a bike helmet behind PC World whilst I watched my mate Double Denim David pooing next to a van).
These days you lot go out and buy ingredients like eggs, milk and lemon especially for the occasion because your cupboards are full to the brim with Nesquik, gherkins, Kit Kats, Bisto, paprika, Dairylea Dunkers, Monster Munch and Cornettos and if you mixed all that together in a pan and ate it then you'd start to travel through time before vomiting it back up into your lap. You shop to excess and your cupboards are generally full of random old shit that will end up in the bin next time you move house.
The weird thing is how much you all seem to like pancakes but only ever treat yourselves to them once a year (apart from Findus Crispy Pancakes, which you eat daily, but are it turns out, full of horses hooves - so they'll probably fall out favour fairly soon).
Point is, you're all spoilt rotten, and whilst you're drizzling Grand Marnier and orange zest over your crêpes suzette I'll be in the bins, using stuff up and basically keeping it real and traditional. The way it's meant to be. The way Jesus wanted, if he ever actually gave a shit about pancakes (which I doubt).
You're welcome to join me. Here's a recipe.
As I understand it, you take part in this farcical charade out of some kind of forced empathy. You do it so you can spend the rest of the year feeling like you understand what it's like to go without life's staple pleasures instead of feeling like a bunch of overfed, gluttonous cunts - which is what you are. You have no idea what it's like to struggle to find a meal. (Yesterday I ate egg fried rice out of a bike helmet behind PC World whilst I watched my mate Double Denim David pooing next to a van).
These days you lot go out and buy ingredients like eggs, milk and lemon especially for the occasion because your cupboards are full to the brim with Nesquik, gherkins, Kit Kats, Bisto, paprika, Dairylea Dunkers, Monster Munch and Cornettos and if you mixed all that together in a pan and ate it then you'd start to travel through time before vomiting it back up into your lap. You shop to excess and your cupboards are generally full of random old shit that will end up in the bin next time you move house.
The weird thing is how much you all seem to like pancakes but only ever treat yourselves to them once a year (apart from Findus Crispy Pancakes, which you eat daily, but are it turns out, full of horses hooves - so they'll probably fall out favour fairly soon).
Point is, you're all spoilt rotten, and whilst you're drizzling Grand Marnier and orange zest over your crêpes suzette I'll be in the bins, using stuff up and basically keeping it real and traditional. The way it's meant to be. The way Jesus wanted, if he ever actually gave a shit about pancakes (which I doubt).
You're welcome to join me. Here's a recipe.
- Collect berries (from Asda / hedge)
- Regurgitate the eggs
- Come on. I don't think you're finished yet. You're still retching for goodness sake
- Prepare the table (don't forget maple syrup if you have any cunts visiting from the USA)
- Finish coughing up those damn eggs
- Add the flour / soil and stir gently for 10 minutes
- Milk (milk something)
- Invite your guests. It'll be ready soon. Why haven't you invited them yet? Are you fucking stupid?
- Add the sugar
- You haven't got sugar?
- Panic about the sugar situation. Start crying. Throw a tantrum. Blame Sexy Chris.
- CALM DOWN! We'll use wasps. (Worth a bloody shot isn't it?)
- Tell Vile Clive to calm down. It's going to be fine.
- Flip the pancakes
- Garnish and serve
- Apologise profusely and wait for the entire evening to blow over.