"You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart. You’re heading for a breakdown, better pull yourself apart. " - John Cooper Clarke

>Beneath the smoke, there’s Spring.

>Oh gawd, I’m a mess in the kitchen, I really am. The Twat is correct, just don’t let him know about this statement, but really, I should not be allowed in the kitchen. Last night he prepared a watery curry for me before leaving for something. It may have been a meeting or a drink; I have no recollection, but he did prepare my watery curry. He left the noodles on the table and also the naan bread. How sweet of him. Then he left.

I went downstairs to start heating up the water-curry and throw some egg noodles into some pre-boiled water, and before you ask, the two simply do not go together. I was too lazy to find the couscous as the cupboards in the kitchen scare me somewhat. When I open one of them it tends to spit out all my tupperware and faux tupperware which upsets me endlessly. There is another cupboard which throws out a box of cereal each time I open it. This is most distressing until I open another one which is empty. This particular cupboard pleases me in some ways, but not in others. Next to it is the biscuit cupboard. I hate that one as it’s always empty when it should be full. Culprits? Todd and the Twat. Moaners? Coralie and Tatiana.

So there I was in the kitchen, half-heartedly heating up my water-curry whilst checking on my noodles thrown in pre-boiled water. Ooooo, I thought, I’d better heat up the naan bread so as to soak up all that water. So I chucked a piece into the microwave, turned it on and dealt with the rest of the runny stuff. Time was ticking by quickly and Eastenders had just started so I thought “bugger this, I’ll grab the bread out of the microwave and try and take everything into the living room without spilling anything.”

I turned around only to witness smoke pouring out of the microwave. What had I done? Set the thing on fire? Was the bread on fire? Help, I needed firemen in uniform. Lots and lots of them to save me from this microwave that was about to explode.

Common sense kicked in, as it so often does when you know you’re not going to get what you want.

I opened the microwave only to be overwhelmed by the fumes emanating from the damn box and found a shrivelled piece of bread in it. Well fuck, that’s my naan bread literally up the chimney, so I took it out and threw it in the sink, burning four fingers in the process. I opened the window, shovelled some water-curry on top of the noodles and hurried as fast as I could into the living room, making sure to shut the kitchen door and avoid any slops.


But I missed half of Eastenders, supper was disgusting and the house smelt as if half of it had burnt down. Hopefully, with this Springy weather I’ll be able to open all the doors and de-pong the house. I may have to take the microwave outside too.

If only tortoises could cook.


  1. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 11:54 am | Permalink

    “If only tortoises could cook.”
    If only you could cook tortoises.

  2. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 3:54 pm | Permalink

    If Zoe tries to cook a tortoise, I put my money on the reptile.
    The tortoise that is…

  3. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 4:39 pm | Permalink

    You are useless! In fact, you’re not that good. Dig a hole, light fire in hole, chuck some stones in so they heat up. When hot enough lob Herman in and bury it with sods or turf and soil. Ccook for 2 hours and voila, dutch oven tortoise! Yummy. *bye*

  4. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 8:14 pm | Permalink

    I have cupboards like that. I thought we had a poltergeist because bottles of HP Sauce, piccalilli jars and coriander powder keep leaping out at me.I became so good at catching them in mid-air that I could keep wicket for England.

  5. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 8:21 pm | Permalink

    Keeping wicket for England is no recommendation of catching ability, Birdy…

  6. Posted Thursday, March 19, 2009 at 9:45 pm | Permalink

    I would have popped the noodles into the watery curry, let them absorb the extra water.
    Did you leave the packaging on the Naan?

  7. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 1:10 am | Permalink

    So . . . when you’ve cooked the tortoise, how the hell do you get it out of the shell?
    Anyway, you have to catch the thing first.

  8. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 7:26 am | Permalink

    I am NOT, and I repeat, NOT, going to eat my tortoise.

  9. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 10:31 am | Permalink

    Well, if you’d only admit to Q. that you said he’s right, he’ll be so pleased he will warm up dinner for you too.
    I hear turtle soup is tasty. But I wouldn’t eat Herman…not after I found out about one particular thing he likes to eat…can you tell I can’t get that out of my head??

  10. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 10:49 am | Permalink

    Wow, someone who watches EastEnders. I thought the BBC just made up those viewers.
    Also, just order, it’s way easier and less likely to burn down the house. Besides, you have the advantages of cute young men coming to the door, or big ugly twats :s

  11. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 5:36 pm | Permalink

    Your cupboards are just like mine. Have you got one that opens on it’s own and goes for your head everytime you pick something up from the floor?
    Perhaps the firemen are for another day.

  12. Posted Friday, March 20, 2009 at 6:17 pm | Permalink

    Y’see that’s the reason I don’t use a micro wave – that and fact we don’t own one.
    What’s wrong with rice? I had some great saffron flavoured yesterday with a chilli con carne. Watery curry doesn’t really get my juices flowing.
    MTL likes porridge when all else fails.
    I’m beginning to suspect you are not a domestic goddess:)

  13. Posted Saturday, March 21, 2009 at 2:50 am | Permalink

    The bad thing about being rather a skillful writer and make a genuinely good post about an extremely ordinary event (in that I gotta hand it to you, takes some talent to be a seinfeld), is that all you’re gonna have are the dullest comments, since there’s not much to say, really.
    “turtoises taste good.hehe.naan bread.Dont eat pet.No!”.
    For fuck’s sake.
    Myself not excepted. Just decided to drop a word after reading so many of your archives.

  14. judith
    Posted Saturday, March 21, 2009 at 11:50 am | Permalink

    cupboards like that must follow ex-pat brits around the whole world! mine actually wings cups at my head. not delicate little teacups, actually they are big dumb soup and coffee mugs. needless to say i am living in america.

  15. A Nonny Mouse
    Posted Saturday, March 21, 2009 at 4:59 pm | Permalink

    Pat – “..to suspect you are not a domestic goddess…”
    Only suspect? Where have you been hiding? It’s a well documented fact on t’internet that Zoe only has a kitchen because it came with the house. I wonder if she knows where it is?

  16. quarsan
    Posted Saturday, March 21, 2009 at 6:45 pm | Permalink

    Let’s just take a peek into The Dictionary of Zoe..
    Ah. Here it is;
    Kitchen: The room Zoe passes through to get to where the wine is stored.

  17. Posted Saturday, March 21, 2009 at 10:06 pm | Permalink

    A wine cellar? A cleaning lady? An Olympic size swimming pool? Exotic pets? (Herman)
    Being poor certainly has it’s perks. When does the yacht get a mention then?

  18. Posted Sunday, March 22, 2009 at 7:33 am | Permalink

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  19. Posted Sunday, March 22, 2009 at 12:17 pm | Permalink

    Keith, after I mention my 12-bedroom villa in Dubai and vineyard in Champagne.

  20. Posted Sunday, March 22, 2009 at 5:09 pm | Permalink

    I’d leave an erudite and witty comment just to piss off Miss Piss, but I’m unfortunately in the middle of digging myself out of an avalanche of tupperware and related objects.
    Teach *me* to open the kitchen cupboards.

  21. Posted Sunday, March 22, 2009 at 5:10 pm | Permalink

    …ing. Should be working.

  22. Posted Monday, March 23, 2009 at 3:19 am | Permalink

    I did that with a bagel once, thus proving that the average microwave can hold the same amount of smoke as a small bungalow.