The End Of The Load

My relationship with cyber-girlfriend Melissa Rhyke (almost 28) of Florida is officially over. She sent me a cold missive last night telling me it would never be much beyond an internet-only arrangement, and that she was looking for something more substantial. Judging by her status on Facebook, she has already found it - in the arms of Darius, a tall black research scientist (and Piscean) from Tampa.
I have mixed emotions. Part of me feels a sense of freedom and relief; part of me feels the urge to row over to the United States and stab her through the heart with a scalpel. Being of limited experience in these things, I wasn’t sure whether to cry, or go for a walk, or sign up to another dating website, or what.. In the end I ate four Bumper Size bars of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut and watched an old episode of ‘M*A*S*H’ on YouTube.
So do I wallow in self-pity and dwell on what might have been? Or do I put it down to experience and move on soon as I’m able?
My Uncle Jack would say ‘get back on the horse, son’ but then he was recently arrested for sexual interference of a farm animal so he may have meant it literally, not metaphorically. Either way, I plan to avoid female companionship with the same determination I avoid toothpaste and Channel Five.
Who needs a partner anyway? I have Shakespeare, Milton, Hawking and Byron, and all my other needs can be satisfied with food.
Besides - a girlfriend might actually want to sleep with me, and I haven’t changed the bedsheets since mum left.

RC 30-8-08

2327 BST

Yanks, and no thanks

I am struggling to find someone as interested in the US political scene as myself. My neighbours are more concerned with the growing pains of their leylandii, and the kids who live in the bus shelter just want me to buy them some fireworks.
I tried to point out that their future well-being was intrinsically affected by the forthcoming Presidential election, only to be met with ‘Piss off, faggot’ and ‘Are you a paedophile?’
I do despair.
John McCain has chosen the female governor of Alaska to be his running mate. She’s young, so anyone drawn to Barack Obama for that reason will be back in play, and she’s female, which should nicely negate the effect of Hillary Clinton’s prominence for the Democrats. She’s also married to an oilman, so when they’re comfortably nestled in the White House, that oilfield under Alaska is going to be up for grabs in a single beat of her black heart.
I may delete that last paragraph soon – my hatred for Republican Americans is equalled only by my paranoia that they’re after me – but it’s good to get it off my chest. I posted something similar on a Washington Forum website earlier today, and soon received two replies to my post. The first one (from someone calling themselves ‘BushAndProud11’) asked simply ‘Call yourself a patriot?’
The second, an anonymous posting, asked ‘Are you a paedophile?’
Sometimes there just isn’t enough cheesecake in the world to ease my pain…

RC 29-8-08
BST 2131

Heartache, and Stomach ache

Many of you have been asking for an update on the state of my relationship with cyber-girlfriend Melissa Rhyke of Florida. Things are a bit patchy. Patchier than the denim jacket my old geography teacher used to wear in assembly.
Her 28th birthday is approaching faster than a ferret up a Yorkshireman’s trouser leg, so she asked me to fly over to America to spend the big day with her and her family. I have no money, a fear of flying, and a dislike of Americans equalled only by my dislike of Spam, so I told her I thought it a bad idea. She called me an insensitive, selfish, Limey bastard, and several other words that I must admit I had to look up on the Internet before I knew just how insulting they were. She flew off the handle quicker than a nymphomaniac caught using a saucepan to pleasure herself.
Bloody women.
The main reason I like being together in cyberspace only is that I feel I have some control over conversations, and can steer us both away from the emotional catacombs that most modern relationships seem to get lost in.
Not so, it seems.
I considered sending her some roses, but Feelgood Flowers Of Florida wouldn’t accept Clubcard vouchers, so I sent her a rosy e-card instead.
She says it may be over.
I took out my fury and anguish on a Partybag of Cadbury’s Assortments and a Chicken Biryani from the Taj.
Tomorrow I may be one girlfriend lighter, but three stone heavier, and smelly.

RC 26-8-08
2042 BST

A-Z Of My Favourite Foods, Part 2

N is for Nipples. Not a great food stuff in themselves, but the best damn thing to eat something off. Especially custard.
O is for Octopus. I only ever tried it once – at a University Culinary Challenge night. It was awful, and I was sick for three days, but I won first prize, three hundred pints at the bar, and kudos you couldn’t buy with a fortune.
P is for Plaice and Chips. Deep-fried. Soaked in batter. With scraps. Heaven in a Heart Attack.
Q is for Quails eggs. Like expensive snot in a bubble. And lovely..
R is for radicchio. The Michael Schumacher of lettuce.
S is for samphire. If you’ve never had seaweed soaked in garlic butter – get yourself up to Norfolk and try some.
T is for Titwank. Sorry, I’ve gone off track a bit there.. I’ll try again..
T is for Toasted Cheese Sandwiches. Ideally at three a.m. in a caravan, on the back of a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of Jim Beam
U is for Upchuck.. If you’re not doing it at the end of the meal, you just haven’t eaten enough yet..
V is for Venison. Great in a pie, great in a stew, and great to tell the kids “YOU’VE JUST EATEN RUDOLPH!!”
W is for waffles. Potato ones with eggs on.. sweet ones with golden syrup on.. or stuck to the wall of the bedroom to use as soundproofing so you can’t hear mum and ‘Uncle’ Tom next door.. they truly are ‘waffly versatile’
X is for X-Tra Special. That’s what Sweaty Barry calls his Burger Van Sunday Best. My arteries are clogging just thinking about it..
Y is for yam. The only vegetable named after the noise you make while trying not to be sick.
Z is for zucchini. Because it’s the only one I can think of..

And no – I don’t understand what I meant under ‘R’ either…

RC 19-8-08
0941 BST

A-Z Of My Favourite Foods, Part 1

A is for Avocado – its tasty, versatile, and healthy (well you can’t have everything)
B is for Breakfast – cheating slightly, but it allows me to chip in with sausages, fried eggs, mushrooms, fried bread, baked beans, bacon, black pudding. (Breakfast without Black Pudding is like Masturbation without Mayfair)
C is for Custard. The King Of All Things
D is for Dick, Spotted. My favourite dessert, my favourite innuendo
E is for Everything Else. If it’s not somewhere else on this list, it doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be.
F is for Fennel. I’m not a fan of herbs, but this is a winner. Maybe because it tastes like ouzo, so it reminds me of my mothers breath.
G is for Golden Syrup. There are very few things it cannot improve. Except teeth.
H is for Houmous. Like eating a Greek man’s four-day old spunk, but damn good in a sandwich with some gammon.
I is for Ice Cream. My friend and my comfort, in good times and bad
J is for jam. A silofull of sugar with a spoonful of fruit.
K is for Kettle Chips. Technically a brand name, but one worth praising to the hilt. (sponsorship of this blog is still up for grabs, by the way)
L is for Leerdammer. The ultimate cheese for a toasted cheese sandwich.
M is for Mum’s Pot Roast. She may have ruined most of my adult life and departed under a stench-ridden cloud of embarrassment, but she did make a damn good pot roast. Mainly cos she used real Pot…

to be continued..

RC 15-8-08
2003 BST

The Way To A Man's Heart

I like cooking.
Or rather, I like to eat, and cooking is a necessary bridge between hunger and eating.
To be satisfied by food is an infinitely greater satisfaction than to be satisfied by sex, or by sleep, or by a compliment.
Food is my oxygen. Without it, I’d be out in the street with a switch-blade remorselessly carving up strangers.
I like eating. I like my food cooked. Therefore I like cooking.
I suppose it’s comparable to the way I like breathing – I wouldn’t wilfully pursue it as a hobby, but as it’s a human necessity, I choose to enjoy it.

Preparation is everything. Preparation is the foundation on which we build our towers of culinary brilliance.
Without crushed garlic, there can be no bolognaise sauce. Without thinly sliced bread, there can be no Welsh Rarebit. Without pine nuts, there can be no paglia e fieno.

I Eat, Therefore I Am…. Fat

They say that Men think about sex every 15 seconds. Not me. There isn’t room in my head for thoughts about sex – it’s too crammed full of thoughts about eating. The only time sex is allowed to enter my mind is when I’m daydreaming about custard and imagine it being smeared over my buttocks.
Food is my life. It’s my drug, it’s my muse; it’s the very life-blood that flows through the veins of my sanity and ambition. I. LOVE. TO. EAT.
Just for my own amusement (and arousal) – I am compiling an A-Z Of My Favourite Foods. Watch this blogspace.. (and I only wish there were more letters in the alphabet)

RC 14-8-08
1240 BST

Going For Gold

I’m enjoying watching the Olympics. The spectacle, the athleticism, the colour; the pageantry, the emotions, the adrenaline.. and that’s just the Beach Volleyball. I have to praise beyond measure the schedulers. They’ve put a sport in which stunning young women jump around in their underwear on TV at exactly the time I need it to be there – three o’clock in the morning when everyone else is asleep.
Last time around I didn’t see a bit of The Games. We only had one telly and mum refused to let us watch Athens2004 because it meant she missed out on her shopping channels. I still wonder why she needed to buy a 12-foot fishing rod and a PowerSander but there we are.. The Power Of Impulse Purchasing, I suppose. That, and being a materialistic alcoholic with the will power of a pregnant slug.
With four years to go until the UK f**k up the Olympics in London, I’ve decided to try and compete. Here’s my list of Events Presenting Possible Medal Chances For Rory 2012:
Omelette making
Gaining weight
Promising to diet
Eczema
Avoiding Real Relationships By Only Having Girlfriends Online
Left-handed masturbation
Festering
Being lazy
Wasting your qualifications
Alienation
Anal Retention
and the one I think could bring me the gold…
Surviving The Aftermath Of An Alcoholic Parent Who Runs Off Leaving You To Deal With All The Local Authorities She Had Battles With While Trying To Retain Your Sanity And Get The Bitch’s Smell Out Of The Sofa.

Must go – the women’s diving is now starting..

RC 13-8-08
1200 BST