Local man, Martin Shuttlecock, today was forced to endure the popular British Broadcasting Corporation's television presentation of 'Masterchef - The Professionals' on his 52" HD TV.
Shuttlecock, who wasn't keen on his wife's programme selection in the first place, looked on in abject horror as long suffering wife Anne deconstructed the chefs involved, the most exclusive restaurant in the world, Norman's or something in Copenhagen, the menu they came up with, and described it all as "a load of bollocks."
Long suffering wife Anne, who looked on in abject horror as the wannabe chefs went out foraging for locally sourced herbs and vegetables in the Greater Copenhagen region commented:
"That's disgusting. They didn't even wash it. It could have been pissed on by a dog or a cat or a reindeer, but those pretentious prats think it's lovely. I don't think I've ever seen such pretentious crap in my life. And it is crap. Not only that - it's horrendously overpriced."
As Shuttlecock shuffled off to the fridge for another can of amber Belgian lemonade, his long suffering wife Anne remarked:
"It costs a grand a throw at Norman's in Copenhagen, and it's nothing more impressive than glamourised sushi, or tapas. What do the Danes know about fine cuisine anyway? Most of the fuckers live off herring. The French are the finest chefs in the world. They just are. Even an average Parisian restaurant turns out better fare than this Danish shite. At around fifteen quid a head. This is pretentious cuisine driven to extremes."
Shuttlecock sat shocked. He thought of his cyber friends, Colonel Juan, Abel Rodriguez, Jalapenoman and the legendary Morse, who all enjoy a spot of fine dining - but he remarked that as far as lark's livers in balsamic vinegar, great white shark fillets stuffed with broccoli puree and wild black olives, and cat's jawbones fried in extra virgin olive oil - they could stick 'em all up their Danish arses.
As Shuttlecock explained:
"Abel explained about the true nature of a breakfast burrito, J-Man explained about how to use chilli to best effect, CJ buys pheasants two for a fiver up the market and Morse cooks chickens stuffed with popcorn until they explode out of the oven. The wife says that these chefs on the telly are all pretentious ponces and that what they do really is shite, unlike me Spoofy mates. But shite dressed up. Like the Emperor's new clothes."
Shuttlecock said that he'd settle for a cod and chips from the chippy for now. With mushy peas.
Until the long suffering wife, Anne, does a roast leg of lamb. Without Leeds United tattoos - and which don't contain Golden Eagle semen.
But none of that nouvelle cuisine bollocks.
It's shite that is, according to Shuttlecock.
Norman says he'll sue - fuck him.
More as we get it.