Determined to impress his better half, local man, Martin Shuttlecock decided to cook her a prawn curry for her enjoyment when she arrived home from work.
Initially, all went well. The prawns were purchased fresh from a local fishmonger and Shuttlecock set about making a proper curry, as practiced by a Pakistani friend of his, who wishes to remain anonymous, but who's called Naz.
Working on the principle that the slower and longer you cook something, the more tender it becomes, the idiot, Shuttlecock, proceeded to stew the prawns for an hour, after the curry proper was cooked.
When Anne Shuttlecock arrived home with her daughter in tow, she remarked on the delicious cooking smells which were wafting into the street and down the block.
Upon being seated and tucking into the prawn curry, Anne Shuttlecock suddenly grimaced and said:
"Shit! I think I just broke a tooth! What did you do with this curry? Put rocks in it?"
"He must have," the daughter added. "The curry itself is lovely, but where did the stones come from?"
The hapless cook went off to sulk with his arms folded, watching the TV news and sporting a frown.
"It wasn't that bad," Anne told her husband. "But them prawns was like fucking bullets. You're supposed to throw them in at the last minute, and then serve them. They don't get more tender as you cook them - they turn into granite chips."
Martin Shuttlecock is still in a big sulk, according to sources. A situation exacerbated by Manchester United's home defeat by Aston Villa.
"Look, just fuck off!" he told us.
More culinary catastrophes as we get them.