Funny Youtube links
Here follows a selection of youtube clips which tickled my funny bone.
This following one is a full episode. Its all piss funny but the stuff from 17 minutes on is the best. It is just sooooo wrong.
Friday, 31 December 2010
Curry
Curry
As you all know curry is the king of food. Nothing in the history of food can compare to the sublime delight that a good curry can provide. Despite what Wiggy says, he is wrong, Greggs is not the best. No doubt Greggs is good and can be relied on to provide some momentary satisfaction, but it is not, nor will it ever be a match for a good “ruby murray”. You cannot go in Greggs and drink beer (you will be arrested); you cannot go in with your drunken mates and insult anyone within earshot (again, an arrest or beating will be imminent). You cannot reheat it in the morning (you will die) and it does not make you faeces EXACTLY like the curry you had previously ate. (Have you ever been tempted to dip some left over Nan bread into the toilet pan……?)
So all in all Greggs pales in comparison to a curry.
The only downside to a “ruby” is the dreaded ringsting; this is an affliction that can reduce the manliest of men to quivering sobbing wrecks. To demonstrate this, go to the nearest supermarket and buy some Stagg Dynamite Chilli (not curry but it works on the same principle) I tried it once and my stomach went numb after 3 mouthfuls. I carried on eating and was soon covered in sweat. I went out on the piss with my mates and it felt like I had a cold brick in my stomach. I knew something was amiss. The next morning I was uncomfortable. My hoop was already sweating in dread in anticipation of the horrors that was about to unfold. I tried to hold back on going to the toile for as long as I could because I knew there was going to be issues, but eventually I went. Imagine a piece of string, cover that string in superglue and then roll it in broken glass, imagine now that piece of sting being sawed through your hoop. The pain was unimaginable, I broke my arm once and that was nothing compared to this, I got hit by a cricket ball another time square in the happy sacs and it was nothing compared to this, I snorted some Andrews liver salts once and it was nothing compared to this. I actually sobbed. Me, a 35 (at the time) year old man actually sobbed at the pain. I was on the toilet for 45 agonising minutes; every second was stark unadulterated misery. I felt like the beginning of bonanza (YouTube it) was happening on my behind. So my advice is, always eat a curry (or similar spicy food) that you know you can handle. Always remember that a curry is hotter exiting than it was entering.
Curry as been around for hundreds of years, despite popular folklore and urban myth. The word comes from the Tamil word “Kari”, this first appeared in 1886. It describes a meat dish with spicy gravy and bread. The basic idea for the dish can be seen across medieval European and western Asia. The migration of food idea’s can be seen with such food as lasagne, Lasagne despite popular belief was originally a south eastern English dish which migrated to the Mediterranean at the time of the crusades. The same migration of spices happened in early medieval times, cumin, coriander, fenugreek, mace, cloves, star aniseed to name but a few all can be traced to different regions then what they are famous for now. So a curry can trace its roots from many areas. Iran, Medieval Europe, China, India, western Asia and north Africa can all claim to have contributed to what we call a curry today. The British curry has been around since the turn of the twentieth century, the story has it that a Bangladeshi restaurateur mixed some tomato soup with cream and various spices and the result was Chicken Tikka masala.
The basic restaurant curry is simple to make, it is supposed to be a close guarded secret but a Pakistani friend of mine told me what they do. It is childsplay, so sit back and listen to Uncle Gavin give you a cooking lesson.
1 Mix 2 tins of chopped tomatoes with 2 chopped large onions.
2 Add 3 gloves of garlic and 3 teaspoons of chopped fresh ginger
3 Mix it to a fine paste/sauce in a blender
4 Cook over a medium heat for 3-4 hours
This is your BASIC curry sauce. The art comes from the spices and additions you use to get the curry you desire. Spices such as, Cumin, Coriander and Cardamom are a must, these 3 are essential. Other spices can be added such as Fenugreek, cloves, mace, nutmeg, pepper, star aniseed, chilli, Cinnamon, Fennel, paprika and Garam Masala can be added. Ingredients such as Coconut milk, peanut paste, ghee, curry leaves, Tamarind paste, tomato puree, cream, bay leaves and lemon/lime can be used as well as any vegetable or meat. If you are using Chicken it is worth noting that plain yogurt mixed with any spice makes an extemporary marinade.
If you are eating a curry that is too hot for you, try drinking some milk or having a milk based condiment handy (cream, yogurt, fermented yaks milk). This dissolves the hot part of the spices. This only works on food going in though. The spices condense back into your poo after it has been digested, so your ringpiece is still going to be beaten like a ginger step child.
Finally I will list and review different curry types you may come across in your culinary escapades.
MADRAS
A most popular dish of rich hot and sour tastes. Extensively prepared with chilli lemon juice and tomato puree. Like most curries the strength and composition of a madras can change from chef to chef. Basically it is a hot tomato based curry. I would not recommend this for curry virgins
VINDALOO
A fabulous, hot taste, black pepper, lemon ginger chilli are a few spices to add to qualify this as the one of the most extravagantly hot dish. I lot of chefs make a vindaloo my just adding chilli powder to a madras but a chef who knows what he is doing will a notably different approach and recipe to differentiate it from the basic madras. This will make your hoop sore.
KORMA
Chicken, meat or prawns dipped and washed in milk and cooked very mildly in butter and cream. A very mild dish. Can also contain almonds and coconut. To be honest you may as well eat some toast.
ROGAN JOSH
Spiced with herbs and cashew nuts and garnished with fried tomatoes and onions.
The cashew nuts are an added extra, I don’t think you will find these in your standard takeaway but a good chef will include these.
BHUNA
A garnished dish with onions, capsicum and tomato, selected spices, extensively treated to provide medium strength. I got this description from a menu. Bhuna’s don’t really offer anything new or exciting. It has some spiciness but otherwise boring and forgettable.
PATHIA
A sweet and sour taste dish prepared with garlic, red chilli, onions, capsicum and maximum quantity of tomato puree. It looks like lava and it tastes like I imagine Angelina’s right nipple tastes like. My favourite curry ever. It is hot and it does give you a modicum of anal discomfort but the sheer exuberance and feistiness of the dish is well worth it. Put some toilet roll in the freezer if you are that worried.
DUPIAZA
A fuck-load of diced onions, seasoned and fresh, applied with dozens of spices to produce a taste that is medium hot. A very suitable dish to go with chapatti or pore. Very nice, can be a lot of variation between chef’s though. This make you shit like its going out of fashion and your farts will smell like you have died and forgot to lie down.
DANSAK
Medium hot curry, cooked in lentils, sweet and sour taste in thick creamy sauce. Does what it says on the tin. Nothing special. Hippy curry.
BIRIYANI
Not strictly a curry, rather a spiced rice dish with a curry sauce of choice and served with a omelette and cucumber. It will also contain raisin, cashew nuts and whatever else the chef will find on the floor. It is a fact that most food poisoning cases that relate to curry serving establishments come from rice. Rice that is not used is frequently put back in its container.
These are the basic curry types. There are many others dependant on the restaurant. Dishes such as Phall, saag and other megahot curries can be found. These are normally vindaloo’s with added spice and probably some added bodily fluid.
Never. Ever insult or upset the staff at a restaurant. They WILL add something extra.
Hope you have enjoyed this guide.
Gav
Saturday, 25 December 2010
FARTS
MY Top 5 farts
I love farts, the whole mystique and pageantry that surrounds flatulence has always tickled and amused me. From the squeakiest parp to proper tumultuous show stoppers, they have always held a fascination for me. I think this fascination started when I was around 6 and I heard what I thought was a motorbike outside, it was in fact my dad on the toilet upstairs. This magnificent faecal harbinger set the tone for the rest of my life. Farts were funny. Here in no particular order are the five worse (best) farts I have experienced.
Bob’s bad effort
Back in the day there used to be around 9 of us who hung out together, Myself, Thick Bob, Galley, Friendly Phil, Bowler, Ogo, naked Dean and C’lee. Including the girls and other hangers on this could expand to around 20 of us, but we 9 were the core lads.
We had been to a wedding in Chorley of someone we knew and were making our way back in a minibus on the motorway. We were all pissed and were singing, making fun out of the Bangladeshi driver whist battering Naked Dean on the back row. The driver was getting agitated by our behaviour and was gibbering on; the minibus was a riot when Thick Bob decided to dropped his lungs. The thing about Bob was that he was clinically stupid, He had a heart of gold but by-fuck was he thick, anyhooo, in the midst of the violence, singing and driver histrionics Bob just said, matter of factly “sorry lads”. It then hit us, it was appalling. At first there was mute incomprehension at the horror that was unfolding within the tight, hot confines of the minibus and then pandemonium broke out. We started fighting for window spaces, actually hurting each other in the rush to stick our heads out of the window and the already unbalanced driver started panicking and screeching at us in his heathen tongue, God knows what he was saying but he was very very unhappy, for all we knew he could have been cursing us and our future descendants but we were oblivious to his dramatics. The smell was actually easy to describe. It did not smell like a normal fart, it actually smelt like he had dropped his pants and curled one off on the seat. It was the stale, cloying, meaty smell of a shit done by someone who is poorly, very poorly. I remember crying with laughter at the sheer effrontery and offensiveness of the fart.
The driver was still going on when we got back to dukinfield, the smell had stopped with us for a good 20 minutes on the motorway and was still lingering around inside the minibus. Needless to say, Bob got elevated to godlike heights….after he had a right good twatting.
Alton towers disaster
One of my mates at school was called “Whitey”. His claim to fame was that he shagged a poodle (allegedly) and he had done a shit on a rock when on a scouting trip, it was that large they put a king-size mars bar next to it for size comparison. It was actually bigger than the mars bar. I have seen the photo. Anyway, I digress.
Whitey had an uncle Jimmy, I had met uncle Jimmy a few times and the man was a legend. He was fuckin massive, at least 6 foot 7 and 22 stone with a sense of humour and farts to match. I cannot remember his wife’s name, I just remember the fact that she was born with no sense of smell. I don’t know if this was the reason they got together but it must have helped. When Jimmy farted, bad things happened.
Whitey’s mum and dad invited me to go Alton Towers with them and naturally I said yes. Whitey’s family were funny to be around and something funny and untoward always happened with them. Looking back I cannot remember anything unusual happening until the ghost house. This Was Where Jimmy Farted. The ghost house then is where around the world in 80 days is now and you used to walk around the ride. It was gubbish to be honest but it was something to do. Myself and Whitey was far in front of his family was about to take the piss out of some fat cockney lad we had seen when people started to rush past us. At first we thought their had been a fire and people where rushing to get out, it was not just one or two people, it was ALL OF THEM. People where rushing past us with a look of disgust and revulsion and then we heard Uncle Jimmy in the distance. His big baritone booming laughter came crashing out of the tunnels and then that’s when we knew. Uncle Jimmy had farted, Whitey’s mum came rushing out of the dark tunnels, swearing and carrying on about Jimmy showing her up again, the smell followed her and it was bad. It was special smell when you eat far, far too many eggs. I have smelt worse, but for the shear scale and magnitude of Jimmies effort it has to make the list.
Assembly-time blues
Possibly the only effort on the list to make it without any discernible (or remembered) smell. Assembly time at school was a test, it was a test to see how much mischief you can get up to without getting caught. If you got caught misbehaving at school assembly it was always A BIG DEAL, if you got caught (like I frequently did) arsing around you had to stand up and walk to the front of the assembly. You then had to stand on the stage behind the headmaster whist he ranted and raved about how bad and degenerate you were.
The lads I drink with now are not the ones I had in my form at school so unfortuantly I had to sit with others during assembly. This particular day we were all sat in a group in assembly. There was Me, Greggs and whitey on three chairs and in the row directly in front of us were Tots, Dogshit Dave and Sexpest. It was a running game to poke, flick and bug whoever sat in front of you and so it was with my customary twisted delight that I was poking and flicking boogies onto Dogshit's head. Whiteu had his hand on the back of Tots chair and Sexpest was whispering insults. All I remember of the moment prior to the The Fart was Greggs whispering “Do it!, Do it! to Sexpest, and so he did. Sexpest must have been sat on the edge of his chair and it was one of those cheap orange plastic ones, anyway, from some fluke of physics and acoustics the fart vibrated and echoed on the chair, what was supposed to be a normal run of the mill effort got magnified into something truly wondrous and special. If James Cameron had witnessed the glory he would have made a 3 hour cinematic masterpiece about it. I remember Whitey yelling and yanking his hand back from the back of the chair, I swear the chair actually visually vibrated. Needless to say it interrupted the morning prayers in mid stanza. I cannot convey how actually fuckin loud it was. The entire population of the school was in the gym at that time for assembly and every one got to experience possibly the loudest fart ever (yes, even louder than my dads motorbike effort). The teachers and headmaster were apoplectic but all the kids were in stitches, every fucking kid in there was laughing, I actually laughed that much and that hard I nearly choked to death, it is not an exaggeration to see that I also pissed in my underwear. I honestly do not think I have ever laughed so much in my life (apart from when they killed Daphne in neihbours) Needless to say, we were all told to leave the assembly and wait outside the headmaster office. It was like a scene from Saint Trinians. The place was in uproar, teachers yelling, kids laughing themselves silly,Whitey yelling that he had broke his hand with the vibration on the chair and Sexpest saying he had tore himself apart. No one apart from us knew who had unleashed the beast amongst us. The bollocking we received was epic. It was hard explaining to my mum and dad why disrupting the lords prayer with a huge fart was not a good thing. My dad was more understanding than my mam, he’s a dude my dad.
All you can eat.
I will start by saying this is possible the foulest anal emanation of all time. Without actually causing harm to someone I cannot imagine anything quite as foul and poisonous as this. THIS WAS JUST WRONG. Wiggy may have actually been involved in this, it may have actually been him, I cannot quite remember. Probably was him, it would be just like him to do something as insidious and ghastly as this.
The lads from work as well as two of my friends, Dim lad and Smackhead used to go down to Narabi in levenshulme. It used to cost ten of the queens pounds for all you can fuckin eat. That my dear friends is a bargain, all the curry you could devour for just £10. I have ejaculated for less. The only downside was that it was not licensed and also the women had a tendency to breast feed in there. Bizarre. We used to have a few drinks before hand and the veterans of Narabi used to follow a few simple protocols before setting foot in there. Number one was to wear loose fitting pants, whilst you may look like a clown, you could actually consume more food. The second one was that it helped if you took windeeze pills with you. This got rid of the bloated feeling you get when competitive eating or visiting Narabi. I digress, back to the story.
The food was incredible, proper authentic Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi food. It has been voted one of the best Asian eateries in the north west and it is easy to understand why. The problem was that it was too good, the food was too authentic and so our delicate western stomachs had difficulty coping with the heavy spice use, this inability to cope with the heavy spice use manifested itself quite rapidly.
We used to spend on average around 90 minutes to two hours eating in there, this was not the normal “lets go for a meal” eating. This was eating with a purpose, this was eating like you meant it. This was men at work. There was some hefty lads who used to go down with us. Myself, wiggy, Dimlad, Big Lee and smackhead are all of the larger build and so we could trough. It was not unusual to sit down and eat 4 or 5 stacked plates of food and then it was unlimited Gateau, cheesecake and other sweet delights for after. The food we consumed was stupid to be honest and it had its consequences.
After the meal we used to get a minibus home, there was no point going to the pub, we all had eaten too much to move safely. It was bog and bed. It had to be in that order: toilet and then bed. If you messed that up you messed the bed up. We had just set off from Narobi and was on levenshulme main road in the middle of traffic when it happened. I don’t remember it actually happening, one second the minibus was fart free, then next second an awful and abysmal miasmatic cloud of misery descended on us. It was that bad I could not actually laugh, it was that bad you could taste it. It smelt like a foul mixture of shit and curry, God it stank. The minibus driver actually stopped the minibus in the middle or the road and got out. In the middle of traffic. He did not even pull over to the side of the road. He just got out there and then. With cart horns tooting and screaming he stood there and exploded. His anger was palpable but that was the least of my concerns. Eventually the driver calmed down and got back on the minibus, he was still mightily fucked off with us and he threatened to kick fuck out of us if it happened again. To this day I cannot recall who dropped that crime against nature but I have a sneaky feeling it was either Smackhead or Wiggy. I swear as well that you could smell the fart on your clothes hours after the event.
Bare arse fart
After a lot of deliberation I have decided to add this effort to the top five. By adding this one I have had to leave out the time Richard Forster pushed too hard and shit himself on the Calais ferry, the time when I was eleven I sat in my underpants on my brothers head and farted up his nose, the time Ogo lit a fart and burnt himself or the time I farted in the changing room at work and nearly started a fight. No, whilst all the above are funny and memorable, the one to make it to the list is when I made my older brother puke with a fart.
It was 2001 and we were in Edinburgh on a piss-up watching rugby at murrayfield. On these rugby trip the first drinks are normally consumed around 8ish in the morning and then you carry on to the wee hours, there is an art to session drinking, the trick is to drink slowly but consistent. There is an urban myth about drinking yourself sober, this is a fallacy, it is an biological, chemical and physical impossibility, what happens is that your kidneys reach and equilibrium between alcohol consumed and alcohol absorbed, but anyway...my fart.
We had a fantastic and lively night around Edinburgh and was making our way back to the hotel. The hotel was actually on the waterside overlooking the estuary
and so as very pissed lads are wont, we went skinny dipping. This very rapidly lost its novelty and so we got out of the water. Of coarse our clothes had gone missing, it would have been rude not to. The hotel did not bat an eyelid when at 02:30 in the morningt we all were sat at the bar naked singing rugby songs. I was suffering from a distressing bout of flatulance at the time and I remember Wayne (older brother) threatening me if I farted again. Nature being nature I had to fart and so I did. It was titanic and it hurt like fuck. The room stopped singing and looked at me with a mixture of admiration, rapture, revulsion and disgust. Wayne started laughing and as he opened his mouth the smell hit him and he swallowed some of it. Bare in mind we are all naked at this point, there was no cloth or denim between my arsehole and his lungs. A full days beer and food erupted out of his mouth. Luckily I got out of the way very fuckin fast but it was like a beer and puke geyser exploding out of his mouth. In any other company this outragous and prepostorous would have been frowned upon, Rugby lads are differnet though. To them this was entertainment of the highest order. I still get congratulated on this great effort.
Thanks for reading this and I apologise for any spelling mistakes. I have changed some of the names but this is the only falsehood
G Eastwood
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