Dirty Chinese Restaurant

The rain beat down on my brow as I entered Ching Chong Chows Chinese Pagoda Restaurant, Takeaway and Pool Hall. Ching Chong Chows is a local eatery for the most elite foodies in my area and was established in my favourite culinary anno, 1975. I sat down with Johnny Raymond, I mean Mr. R, and I must profess to having a hard time selecting from the menu. Which to have, one wonders, pork dumplings? Salt and pepper ribs? Chiney Chef Special Sauce Oysters? Whole Peking Duck? Prawn toast? Skewered liver and Bacon Chiney Style? Cod Balls Chiney Chef Surprise? Crispy Seaweed? Sweet and sour lice crabs? Tango Ribs? Hong Kong Ribs? Barbecue Ribs? Three Month Matured Spring Roll? Stuff it, I decided, I’ll have it all, and that was just starters. Mr. R had some soup. The butter-like grease from the dumplings, cascaded down my chins like an elegant waterfall in a Chinese garden. All the ribs came away from their bones with the ease of breathing itself. The Whole duck which I devoured, not unlike the Cookie Monster of Sesame Street, was that good I ordered a second one to take the edge off, and everything else went down in a whirling orgy of greed, lust and spite.

For my main I had Sweet and sour pork balls, sweet and sour pork Hong Kong Style, sweet and sour chicken and sweet sour veg all served on a veritable King size bed of rice. A pallid Mr. R had a ham sandwich. There I was gobbling up my meal with relish when it happened. A small rumble in my tummy, no matter thinks I, but then my guts began to quake alarmingly and sweat began to flow from my brow in torrents and stung my eyes. I looked over to the toilet, but the thoroughfare, that would have allowed my passage, was so hopelessly full of diners that I stood little chance on making it. I looked at Mr. R apologetically, grease, sweet and sour sauce, rice and sweat dripping from jowls and mouthed, ‘sorry.’ Then I unleashed a gastric eruption of such ungodly proportions it would have equalled the arrival of Baphomet himself, in volume and stench. To compound this I followed through with 8 pounds of muck and sludge. Some of it solid, some of it not.

Mr. Wu Shu Wank, proprietor of Ching Chong Chows, please accept this as my official apology for clearing your restaurant at such a busy time.

Wotanolgy Facts: Things they don't want you to know

Dear reader, from now on I will be updating you with Wotanology facts. A series of factoids that they don't wany you to know.

Fact 1

In 1985 Frank Sinatra castrated cartoonist Garry Trudeau. Fact.

Minibike madness and Wotanology

Dear reader, I am recovering from a gang of yobbos who have been churning my front lawn with those wretched miniature motorcycles. I tried to summon the powers of Wotan, using the kcuf eht lleh ffo mantra, but to no avail. I then performed some sex majik to exorcise these street urchins, and as a result it was me that was arrested and threatened with the bloody sex offenders register pending a court judgement.

Rest assured all devotees of Wotan, these measures work most times just not on this occasion.

ANOTHER WARNING TO CRITISISORISTS!

Anyone making the statements: N. Reg Mother is a fat poofdah or Karl Rove is a dirty bastard, will be sued!

tweet tweet

oh readers I have finally succumbed! Yes I have started a twitter. Go now and check it out: www.twitter.com/NRegMother

Notice to all CIB Operatives Sec. Clr. III

OPERTAION RINGKISS IS NOW IN EFFECT STOP COMMENCE IMEDIATELY STOP

Warning to other bloggers

It has come to my attention, that a well-known celebrity lifestyle blogger, and clearly a homosexual, has began muttering things about myself and the Church of Wotanology. And they have not been positive things, dear reader. Oh no. Desist immediately unless you want to be at the wrong end of a no win no fee lawyer. D’ya hear?