Look at him. Jamie Oliver. The smug, fat-tongued mockney chef all dressed up like "the management" sucking his belly in and trying not to touch any of the chickens.
Bitter? You bet your beak I am. Somewhere I must really secretly fancy Jamie Oliver because I just find him so annoying. He totally believes his own hype and is pretty much convinced that he is one of the most powerful people in the world. I do love him really.
Anyway onto the point. This week, merely days after we have all binged on luxury foods and are trying to 'tighten the belt' both physically and metaphorically, we are being treated to a selection of programmes trying to raise our chicken consciousness. Kind of like looking at our own chicken vaginas in a mirror that sort of thing. Hugh Ferny-Weatherspoon - who I do actually now quite fancy - got down and dirty with the birds, showing us his own feminine side by weeping among the feathers before snottily wringing another cock to death. But good on him, he took on the system armed with nice hair and a white MacBook. I'm certainly convinced that the only dead chicken to buy should be one that went outside for a bit before it was electrocuted and bled to death. Why not.
But Jamie, well he took a different approach really. Doing it all in the sanitised TV studio and summing it all up with the line "Some poor sod will have to clear all this up later... but it won't be me". How very street of you Mr Oliver. And please stop referring to yourself as Mr Oliver it only works for Mr Ben and makes you look more like Mr Bean. I bet you'll soon be sucking the corporate winky of Mr Sainsbury and once again be advertising their chickens in a charming cheeky chappy way *wink* cor blimey strike a light me ol' mucker.
The most annoying aspect of this whole campaign? I tried to buy a free range chicken today and they were totally sold out. Lamb it is then. Until someone makes a programme about that!
No comments:
Post a Comment