Gourmet paradisico After yesterday's ginormo-gutstuffer courtesy of Club Derrig's culinary corner, I have today partook of the annual festive chums lunch up Acorn House and done it all again.
I can barely move, only managing to waffle (waddle/shuffle) in a stiff-legged stylee and bloated to all feck. It feels like I could burst forth at any moment, spilling out like a huge sausage from a very thin skin, all pinkish and totally ghastly to the vegetarianistas.
"What a life!" as the Lebanesians do say about it, again.
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