WE'RE still pulling bodies out of the wreckage of the Great smoothy disaster of March 28, 2007. Well, to be frank, it was young Becks who was the worst victim.
Becks, you see, is rather partial to these peculiar full-bodied fruit smoothy-type drinks. He obtains what he calls a snapple from the House of Lard every Saturday and has even taken to satisfying his cravings on a daily basis.
Whether that obsession continues after today remains to be seen.
There I was with my back to the design desk trying to catch 40 winks without anyone noticing when suddenly a loud cry went up. Looking around there was blood on the carpet and no sign of Becks. Well, ok, not blood exactly - more the remnants of what's known as an innocent strawberry and banana juice drink - and its thick, gluey red substance can certainly make quite a mess.
The Prince of Darkness was looking stunned, having managed to avoid the splashback from this most dangerous of all spillages. Luckily there were no pets or sea birds in the vicinity because the mess resembled that of a rather nasty discharge from one of those very un-pc oil tankers which sometimes spill their loads on our pleasant beaches.
"Where's Becks?" we inquired, alarmed at the likely answer.
No one had seen him. And the time went by: five minutes, ten minutes, 15 minutes. Finally a search party was organised.
I found the innocent victim standing by the hand dryer, trousers in hand, clad in just boxers and socks, bemoaning his bad fortune and looking well shaken, and not a little stirred. He needed a stiff drink (and not a non-alcoholic fruit-based one) after that trauma. Thank God it was Wednesday club that night.
Ok, it's time I came out of the closet. I've got a bird. I'm fed up with all the speculation and innuendo that has been plaguing me in the office over the last month or so. For arguments sake we'll call her Wren, because she is a bird and once mentioned she wouldn't mind being in the Navy. Probably after four pints of cider, I think.
Talking of drinks we were out on Monday night and spent a pleasant evening in a Bristol pub. Pleasant, that is, until I suddenly realised that three pints of Red Stripe on top of a couple of other pints of lager meant your feet tended to wander in a different direction to the one your brain wanted them to go in.
The treat of the night was to be a Meteor (or is it Meatier? get it???) pizza from Domino's, but I was highly disappointed when said establishment was shut. Managed to wobble home with a pretty poor effort of a Chinese, then collapse. Sorry, Wren, but you will have to get used to it eventually, or chuck me. Come to think about it, I shouldn't really be putting ideas in your head.
Spent all day recovering yesterday from the Red Stripe episode. Last night, though, I decided I needed something substantial to eat and made what can best be described as a minced beef fruitata from a recipe I found in the Sainsbury's mag. Very nice, as it happens.
A large sweet potato (thinly sliced)
1/2lbs minced beef
1 pepper (recipe says yellow but I used red)
2 large teaspoons of cayenne pepper
some cut chives or half a shallot (my preference)
three eggs (whisked).
What to do:
Heat the oil in a frying pan, then fry the sweet potato.
When it browns turn the heat down and continue for five mins to soften it.
Remove from pan.
Put in the mince, chopped leeks, chopped pepper and cook for 5-10 mins until mince browns.
Add the paprika, chives or shallot.
Stir and cook for another five minutes.
Add the eggs and stir until they set and then season with salt and pepper.
Put the sweet potato back on top and then heat under the grill for a few minutes in the pan, making sure the handle doesn't get too hot and that you have used a flame proof one.
Serve in slices with some pasta mixed with fresh tomatoes.