Raw Rats Arse.

In our kitchen there has lurked for no small while a petite jar from ‘Deli Continental.’ It contains, ‘Shiitake, Paddy Straw, Nameko and Porcini mushrooms in vegetable oil.’ Someone paid good money for it and gave it to us as a present. I can see why. It has the familiar look of a Bush-tucker Trial. It wouldn’t take much to convince me it contains lambs eyelids, rats pituitary glands and assorted baby eagle offal. We’ve never found the right occasion to open it. Presumably if we ever do get around to opening it it will also taste like the latter. So Mark out of Towie is, this very pre-recorded moment, in the Australian jungle in a Melbourne back garden attempting to eat his own Deli Continental fare. Good luck mate, good on yer. I like people with arrogance, it’s a much misunderstood virtue. I admire someone honest enough to say, “bring it on, sure I’ll do it, up for anything me, what? Fuck that” followed by “ It’s not humanly possible”, after watching Freddie Star down a bowl of raw rats arse. Granted Freddie was hospitalised as a result, so technically Mark was right. No I won’t have anything said against mark, he’s as translucent as a wet t-shirt and I prefer a wet t-shirt any day to Teresa May’s murky obfuscations. OMG I’ve just imagined Teresa May in a wet t-shirt! Give me that Deli Continental jar.