Monday, 12 March 2012

Hot-Dogs & Dirty Dogs

So, Sid's international buffet (see previous post) was a blazing success Friday night, with the pub packed with loads of new faces, all keen to sample the fine food on offer, whilst enjoying a drink - or two.
A family of French tourists somehow found their way to the pub - even if we're off the tourist-trail - and wasted no time tasting what Sid described as some of England's finest snails, deep-fried in English butter, and garnished with French garlic. If the smiles and ooh la la's were anything to go by, our French visitors were certainly impressed by Sid's culinary skills, which the man himself reckons would make him a three-star chef on the other side of the Channel.
Tony reckons that food is the new sex, but is certain that whilst he, himself, enjoys the finer things in life (double cheeseburgers, pineapple-topped pizza and jumbo hot-dogs), there's no way he would ever let food replace an evening of wild sex, with one of the many female dogs who frequent the pub, and are not the sort of girls you would want to introduce to your parents.
Still, I reckon that the boy's right, and whilst I enjoyed munching on Sid's fine selection of Italian ham and cheese, I enjoyed even more taking Jill - thirty-something, and divorced - back to our flat, to show her that wild sex lives on in south-east London, and is even better than Sid's Italian-style meatballs.

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