Sausages the size of my little finger, rashers of bacon that you couldn't wrap twice around the head of a toothbrush, and an egg that spontaneously combusts upon contact with metal, pushed around the pan with the kind of fork you'd usually see accompanying a children's portion in a Little Chef.
I sprinkle the gloop with chilli flakes and blow the heat off a cup of green tea. The first forkful hits the front of my tongue; I get the feeling that somehow things just aren't quite the same.
1 comment:
mmm little chef.
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