Tuesday, 26 April 2011


You may be wondering what has kept our hero Beast away for so long.
Work my friends and lashings of it , peppered with calamitous events that would try the patients of a saint.

It all started when an exhausted Beast , just finishing cleaning the restaurant , kitchens , toilets and garden following a particularly drunken party , judging by the sticky floors and array of disgarded clothing (peculiarly there was a singular , rather expensive stiletto shoe hanging from a bush in the garden which has yet to be claimed). Suddenly the Beasts mobile telophonic device pinged urgently . It was Mr C ringing from his penthouse master suite , ordering Beast to feed his assortment of paraqueets and chickens in the outside aviary. Sadly during this delicate operation the Beast failed to secure the door correctly and the feathered fiends escaped.
There ensued terrible harangue number one.
The Beast was then instructed to move Mr C's beloved Golden Pussy to its correct position guarding the exit to the lavs. During this procedure the whole fecking front leg fell off.
There ensued terrible harangue number two .Accusations of senility , ham fisted blundering and pure unadultorated idiocy where mentioned .

The following weekend the Beast turned up on the Friday evening to be informed I needed to compile a menu for an authentic luxury spanish Tapas Buffet for 40 people the next night , and following my performance last week  it had better be good.
On enquiring as to what the Cafe C professional chef had come up with , I was told he had firstly had an asthma attack , followed by an attack of the vapours and then sobbed pitifully . Mr C had taken an executive decision that it was The Beasts problem and sauntered off for a celebratory drink (with adoring entourage).
On Mr C's  unsteady return , I stomped downstairs brandishing my impromptu menu for perusal and approval of a somewhat boisterous and cantankerous Mr C . It didnt start well when Mr C shouted 'Oh god I feel a NO FUN ZONE approaching as he downed another shot and wobbled alarmingly on his bar stool.
It is at this point I would like to offer a bit of advice .
Do Not,  under any circumstances try to explain your Tapas Menu to a group of pissed people.
 The sniggering was bad enough when we got to the succulent pork balls  but was nothing to the general guffawing  and catcalls that ensued with the classic Sausage In Cider (Just say it out loud) .This was when I gave up and retired to my kitchen , muttering dark oaths and cursing the day Mr C was expelled into this life .
The next day went by in a maelstrom of post party clean up and kitchen bitchery . It was only when I had calmed a  gibbering  chef with encouraging words and pints of  sweet tea , planned out the buffet preparation schedule and set the chef making a rice salad (The catering equivalent of basket weaving) , I popped up to check timings and stuff with Mr C . Only to be informed I had another buffet for twenty the next day (Sunday) .
 I hope your going to be up early ????  I ventured somewhat alarmed .
Oh yes we will be up nice and early said Mr C and finished off with something muttered .
Being a veteran of conversations with Mr C , I realise the muttered ending was by far the more important part of the sentence and demanded to know what it was . After much weedling and shouting I winkled it out of the devil.
The muttered part was " becuase we are flying out to Barcelona at 7 am"
Fuck Fuck Fuck FUCK ....... a buffet to get through tonight with a chef on the edge of a nervous breakdown
Another buffet tomorrow after cleaning the whole place following tonights festivities , followed by a second clean up, and  no doubt looking after the dogs for a week as well .
Mr C was only saved from a cataclysmic explosion by the arrival of that nights entertainment. The (geriatric) Flamenco Dancers.I am not sure wether the rattlings and clackings where casternets or their false teeth and joints . In the event Mr C had been handing out the free shots , so I dont think anyone much cared .
Therefore my lovelys its been a busy few weeks

Oh and guess what arrived
Oh yes , ITS THE FGES . Hurrah !
 they have been disinfected and the gusset has been scrubbed .
More of them anon


xl said...

So, will you be catering the royal wedding?

Anonymous said...

Can I book you for a "Fränkischer Abend" with Blaue Zipfel?

MJ said...


BEAST said...

Mr XL: Cafe C will be hosting Always the Bridesmaid Never The Bride
to celebrate the royal nuptials , I am sure we can rake up a few old sandwiches and a vol au vent or two.
Mr Mago: I have a Bradwurst and I know how to use it !

Miss MJ . Who knows what vile things have been perpetrated in these shorts , I have treated them as hazardous waste , you can be sure of that !

Scarlet Blue said...

I'm sure Kate Middleton will appreciate your sausage inside her [I did the reading out loud thing].
Anyhow: FGES, FGES, FGES!!!!
And you've just left them casually hanging on the washing line. Silly Mr Beastie...

Scarlet Blue said...

**mutter, mutter**
Forgot to tick the box.

Frobisher said...

You should have asked my advise! my Boquerones are the talk of Bournemouth!

MJ said...

I clicked to enlarge the photo and I see that the crotch area has been visibly stretched.

Oh my, DONN!!!

MJ said...

Show us your Boquerones, Mr. Frobisher!

MJ said...

They have my DNA in them!


Scarlet Blue said...

...and they will soon have my DNA in them...

BEAST said...

Miss Scarlet x2 .The line is electrified , so be careful :-)

Mr Frobisher . I wondered why they were all talking about your fishy flaps !

Miss MJ x3 . The stretching is caused by a vigorous wire brushing , so there will be none of your DNA left clinging to the shorts . Mr Frobishers Boquerones seem to have gone off ***liberally sprays Febreze***
Miss Scarlet . Pfffffffffffffffft

CyberPete said...

I spent the weekend with MTV Dance and a Mr C from a band. Can't remember which, Shaymen? Watching hits from the 90s. He was blonde and looked a bit like Jean Paul Gaultier. Same Mr C or someone else?

Yay for shorts!

BEAST said...

Watcha Pete . Our Mr C is built like a brick shithouse and dark.
Nothing like the Shamens Mr C.
Miss Scarlets friend has a wild crush on him.....no accounting for taste :-)

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