The Morning Rant

17/02/12 -- Like snogging your aunty some things are just plain wrong. I once accidentally walked in on the ex sister-in-law only to find her in the bath round at our house one time when she'd come to stay. That was wrong, but what came next was worse.

Now MrsN#1 was a twin as it happens, and I don't know what it was, something just came over me. The sight of her there naked and vulnerable, and these feelings inside that I suddenly realised that I'd been suppressing for years and I did something I now know I'd been dying to do for a very long time. I drowned her.

Another thing that's just plain wrong has happened to me this week. I went to the local greasy spoon the other day, only to discover that "Julie" has sold out to "Michel". Yes I looked carefully at his pristine apron and it was "Michel" not "Michael".

"Large breakfast no egg please," I order. Eggs are the food of the Devil, we all know that. They come out of chicken's arses. End of. The large breakfast is two of everything, bacon, sausage, egg (normally but not on this occasion), toast etc. So the girl behind the counter (no name badge - "Michel" obviously doesn't consider her worthy of one) says "would you like something else instead, some more bacon perhaps?"

Being a bacon aficionado I immediately seize the opportunity to double up on my bacon consumption and say "yes, a couple more rashers of bacon would be great".

"Michel" turns out not to be a classically-trained French chef covertly working in a greasy spoon cafe as you may have thought via the name, but no "Michel" is in fact a Septic Tank. He immediately pipes up with "you'll have to charge him extra for one of those bacons."

Miss No-name looks at him incredulously. Secretly inside she's saying "what are you on about you Septic buffoon, Julie always used to work like this, lose two eggs, gain two bacon. It's simple." (If she was into irony she may have thought "do the math as you lot say" but I suspect that she probably wasn't that deep).

"Bacon is a lot dearer than eggs," explains chef "Michel". I wonder at this point if he's imported a specialist baked bean counting device from America, but I decide to let that one go.

I am tempted to point out to chef "Michel" that he is working in a greasy spoon cafe where the tramps come to keep warm not La Gavroche, but I also decide to keep that piece of information and a list of America's long history of military inadequacies to myself. I just want my large breakfast and I want it now.

So I pay my extra bacon money and sit and wait.

Five minutes later Miss No-name appears with my breakfast and there it is. Christ what in the name of God is this? Four bacon. Check. Two sausage. Check. One black pudding. It should be two surely, but as I'm not going to eat it I'm not bothered. Beans. Check. There are more than two of them, about a hundred at a guess, but I'm too busy to count them individually. Check again. Tomatoes. Two. Check.

Then on a separate plate comes the toast. Two rounds of toast. Check. But then, accompanying the toast what sweet baby Jesus is this. It can't be surely can it? It looks like it, but what the hell is it doing there on my plate. It seems that chef "Michel" has decided to jazz up my plate of toast with a slice of orange!

Four pieces of toast and a slice of orange. He's probably seen it on MasterChef or something. Maybe that's how they do it in America? I wouldn't know as I've never been, and based on this weird combination of ingredients I never want to go.

Some things are just plain wrong, and this is right up there with helping to unclip your granny's bra or trying your Mums false teeth on.