The week has had a few highlights, one of my favourites being a 30 stone man (as a conservative estimate) putting his knee and arse through two respective chairs. At least he found it funny. Having his hosts reinforcing their furniture prior to his arrival must be something he's used to.
Anyway, today the group went to Patrick's, and for those who don't know, Patrick is an upper-class homosexual cliche who is apparently married to a woman who doesn't know the aforementioned given. Patrick also enjoys lowering the tone of dinner parties to smutty innuendoes about cocks and balls. I wouldn't mind, but some of the inserted bits (see, I can do it too!) are along the lines of:
'I have no problem getting an erection, but keeping it is something else entirely.'
Hang on a second, that's more of an entendre. Where's the double?
After the main course, there's a jalapeno and mint 'palate cleanser'. Palate cleanser? Seriously? Fuck off. If you're not Japanese, you have no right to go there without looking like a pretentious twat. Also, burning the surface of the tongue off is not the same as 'cleansing'. Anyway, he 'didn't put many chillies in', but Gavin, the resident fat joke ended up having some sort of anaphylactic attack at the table. I'm thinking this may be a lesson in not consuming food by inhaling it.
The creme brulee goes to shit, so he ends up pouring it over panettone (that's posh bread cake according to London people). This pisses off David, who's not fat or gay, (actually, he might be gay, I wasn't really paying attention, to be honest), because he got a crust. Oh, the humanity! His custard bread dish will be ruined! So he ends up throwing a hissy fit (and the crust) at Gavin, much to his delight.
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