Cereal Killers and Deadly Supplements

Mmmm, I was just looking at a bird on our bird-feeder in the garden, thinking, “My, what a long beak you have”…….. then I realised I was looking at the arse-end and that was actually a tail feather. Maybe it’s not just that my eyes are nearing 45 years of age, but perhaps it’s all because of food packaging. Or red dyes in Smarties. Maybe it’s the third cup of morning coffee or invisible zappyrays from calculators…….

Enough of the bird-watching already. I am easily distracted by birds and squeaky things today. I am making several brisk trips from the playroom (we call my ‘home office’ the playroom, and Sir’s home office ‘THE OFFICE’…… WTF) to the kitchen because my Sketchers make a funky squeaky noise on the floor tiles. To make it more musical I walk like those self-trained hobbling freaks at every second traffic light in Joburg – and I bet if you threw a snake at those fuckers they’d outrun Hussein Bolt in a 100m sprint.

Onto serious matters though, like why certain foodstuff and health supplement manufacturers have murderous intent towards either the planet or their consumers, or both?

Everybody is on the “Save the Planet” bandwagon. I personally think it is a whole lot of hype and there will probably be another Ice Age or something equally disastrous whether your great aunt uses too much of her aerosol vaginal deodorant or not.

I am glad to see that breakfast cereal and health supplement manufacturers share my view. What I do believe is that we might eventually run out of space to discard all sorts of shit, and empty cereal boxes and supplement bottles qualify as said ‘shit’.

Why are these containers up to ten times bigger than necessary considering the quantity of product they contain? I cannot fathom why 30 little vitamin tablets are sold in 250ml sized bottles when they need just 20ml of space? Why can you shove your arm into a cereal box and only hit actual cereal when your arm is already elbow-deep into the box? Whyyyyyyyy? Are these boxes intended for use as homeless shelters? If so, print that on the box……… “Part A. Collect B, C, D and E to complete your shelter!” Ooorrrrrr……… “Tired of sleeping on gritty hard concrete? Unfold box to use as a barrier between your delicate sunfried skin and the unforgiving earth.” I would feel better about it if I knew there was a noble purpose for the gigantic box afterwards, but if it only ends up taking up a square foot of space in the dustbin, then fuck you Kellogg’s and Co.

Seriously – fuck the planet – my dustbin is filling up much faster than necessary because of inconsiderate manufacturers! AND, not only do I have to dispose of the ridiculous 250ml sized bottle a few miserly vitamins came in, THAT bottle is packaged in a cardboard box!! WTF?! Is this really totally necessary? They print the exact same crap on the cardboard packaging as they do on the bottle inside, so what’s the point of the double-packaging? Are your supplements of such dismal quality that we need to be reminded TWICE of what we are opening? Is there a discount for “unboxed” supplements? I don’t think the extra packaging serves any purpose, because it’s much easier to open than the actual bottle inside which has a tight cellophane-like shrunken seal that requires a hacksaw to get through.

Then you also get supplements, like some of the Omega oil capsules, that are so big they would comfortably fill the 250ml sized bottle, with room to spare, but nooooooooooooo, Mr Vitamin manufacturer has a special 500ml sized bottle for THAT one. So now, for good measure, the vitamin makers want to kill not just the planet, but their consumers too! These caps are like huge bullets, and it’s like swallowing kittens whole. Not that I’ve swallowed whole kittens before – I’m allergic, but if I wasn’t I totally would and it would be like swallowing an Omega 3 capsule from hell.

It’s not just dustbin space that matters, imagine how much cupboard space could be freed up if everything we bought were in appropriately sized containers? Perhaps this is where things went wrong – some arsehole read “…. Inappropriately sized containers…”

Oh no! Don’t even get me started on retailers who insist that you keep all packaging for guarantee purposes when you buy electronic appliances! Perhaps they need a few supplements to get their defunct brains functioning again. Now you’re not even talking about cupboard space – you’re talking an entire room, or a warehouse! And of course the boxes are way way bigger than the appliances inside, because these are packed inside the boxes in a thick half kilometre wide safety buffer made of polystyrene! Whatever happened to just filling out the guarantee card? Manufacturers and retailers have completely lost the fucking plot!

Now it’s time to grab your 250ml container of whipping cream, which actually contains 250ml of whipping cream, sometimes even 257ml, whisk until thick and fabulous, and serve with this simple-to-make but oh-so-delicious apple crumble……..





  • 185g Butter
  • 185ml Castor Sugar
  • 5ml Baking Powder
  • 225g Cake Wheat Flour
  • 110ml Cornflour
  • 2ml Salt
  • 1 Jumbo Egg, Beaten


  • 820g Pie Apples (Tinned apples, drained but still wet) 
  • 70ml Seedless Raisins, Currants or Sultanas
  • 7ml Ground Cinnamon
  • 5ml Ground Mixed Spice
  • 180ml Castor Sugar


  • Preheat oven to 180⁰ Celsius
  • Cream the butter and sugar together well.
  • Sift together the dry ingredients and add to the creamed butter mixture, alternating with the beaten egg.
  • Spoon two thirds of the mixture into a pie dish and press evenly into base and sides. Put the remaining mixture in the fridge until needed.
  • Mix together all the ingredients for the filling and spoon into the uncooked pie shell.
  • Remove the remaining pastry from the fridge, and grate over the filling, covering the top evenly.
  • Bake for 35 minutes. Dust with icing sugar and serve warm with freshly whipped cream.

A toilet fit for a funeral

We learn from our mistakes, no doubt about it. We also learn simply by ‘being’…….. every day presents opportunities to learn something new if we care to look hard enough for the lessons.

I learnt something from a mistake this week – don’t ever try to nonchalantly shave off a skin tag. But uhmmm, these protrusions belong on octogenarians and have no business setting up home in my neck! Okay okay, lesson learnt – let a doctor deal with skin tag relocation.

The other lesson I learnt was that my favourite Nexcare plasters leave the sensitive skin red with fury, like my neck is shouting “How daaaaaaaaaare you cover the botched skin tag job with a thin skin-like plaster that is almost invisible when you know you should use a loud Disney plaster on that highly visible and sensitive area you have just mangled!!!!”

I know I’m going to learn something else this week – it will be one of two things:

  1. Don’t ignore an angry lump forming near mangled skin tag jobs.
  2. Angry lumps, when in close proximity to other trauma sites or the result of a possible allergy, will go away eventually. As long as you can breathe you’ll survive. I knew I was right.

Eventually I will have to take the neck to the doc to finish the job, and risk him being totally unimpressed with my surgical skills, and I don’t want to get on my doc’s bad side because, well….. needles. Who knows what future pain he could inflict just to remind me who should do the doctoring and who should do accounting. Sigh. It’s ouchy and it stings a lot, but I can’t stop touching it… it’s like masturbating a third-degree burn. Not pleasant.

Seriously, how can one’s body just spontaneously sprout these shrivelly little penisy things?! The ONLY living being who can pull off skin protrusions is Gabriel Macht, or as he’s better known – the crotch-tingling hot Harvey Specter.

I rest my case…………….

Okay on second thought………. and because I’ve been staring at this pic for 10 minutes, maybe he should lose just ONE of those testicles growing above his brow because it kinda looks like a plugpoint for alien probes. And Harv, honey, ditch the hair product…… I assure you, you will still get to part just as many Pastrami Curtains……….

So that’s the skin tag lesson…….. I wonder if nail clippers would have been better for the job? ……… Stop it!

Some lessons you will never forget. One of those, for me, is “The Peekaboo Game of Thrones”……. I learnt that the choice of toilet, or Water Closet as the builders refer to it, for your home is an extremely important decision. It’s not just a log shuttle, especially when you have kids, and even more so when the kids are young and have pets that are marginally larger than a healthy turd.

When we renovated our home a few years ago, this lesson was retrieved from the memory archives and toilet choices were made with both aesthetics and future Games of Thrones in mind.


My son Dr Fresh had a hamster called Fudgey.

Fudgey was more than 2 years old already when my Late dad brought his youngest brother over for a visit one night. I had not seen my uncle for a few years, and Dr Fresh barely knew him, but was really excited because we had another visitor he could show Fudgey off to. The three of them were huddled around Fudgey’s cage when my son asked “Mom, why is Fudgey hard?” GROAN.

My uncle chortled, sprayed a bit of snot on the cage, and then broke into a full stomach-churning grunt-chortle-laugh, trying desperately to maintain some composure as my son was about to experience trauma and learn about death for the first time.

Pappy and his brother left, laughing like hyenas all the way to the car, and I shrugged my shoulders and made a puppy-dog look that said “Shame booboo I’m sorry my boy, Fudgey is in heaven now.” whilst trying to suppress a huge grin, because…… – no more hamster cage cleaning every week!!

I made a small mistake with regard to the choice of funeral service though. Should have buried it in the garden. But, I convinced my son that Fudgey would want to be with his sewer friends – you know, like the ones on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and the easiest way there would be via the toilet. “Trust me, he’s going to be so happy with his new hamster family down there.”

But Fudgey still had a bit of a rigor mortis issue, so the fucker wouldn’t flush. Whaddaya know – a floater. It was traumatising – for my son. Every time he waved and shouted “Bye bye Fudgey”, the water would swirl, the fudge-coloured fur would vanish, and a few seconds later up it would come, those extra old extra long extra yellow hamster teeth, pink nose and the little curled claws next to its lifeless little face popping up after every flush. Then we’d stand there and wait for the cistern to fill, and I’d tell my son that Fudgey was playing peekaboo – coming back for one last goodbye every time. He bought it, but I was severely traumatised by The Hamster That Wouldn’t Flush.

I should have just removed Fudgey with a plastic packet or something after the first failed attempt to send him to his sewer friends via the ‘tube’, but by the time I thought of it I had already convinced my son of so much bullshit, scuse the pun, that I had no choice but to stand there and play along, waving to Fudgey, shouting “Peekaboo!” with a horrified expression of expectation every time I pulled the handle to flush. Fudgey came back for a last goodbye six times. SIX. The trauma!

So, if you ever renovate, pick a toilet that is small animal flushworthy, even if you don’t have young kids I bet it will be a good future selling point for your home.

Now, if Harvey Specter has left you feeling a tad flushed, go and pour yourself a stiff drink and try this week’s recipe…….. it’s made with a dead animal part.




  • 2kg Lamb Shoulder – bones in
  • ¾ Cup Red Wine (good wine, not plonk)
  • ¼ Cup Red Wine Vinegar
  • ¼ Cup Balsamic Vinegar
  • 7 Garlic Cloves, unpeeled
  • Few Sprigs Rosemary
  • Generous glug of Olive Oil
  • Salt Crystals
  • Just a Hint of Black Pepper


For the Caramelised Baby Onions

  • 1kg Baby Onions, Peeled and Sliced
  • ¼ Cup Red Wine Vinegar
  • ¼ Cup Balsamic Vinegar
  • 1 Tablespoon Brown Sugar
  • Splash of Olive Oil
  • Teaspoon dried Thyme

Place all onion ingredients in a heavy-based saucepan, add half a cup of water, bring to a boil, turn the heat down as low as possible and leave the onions to cook and caramelise for about 2 to 3 hours. Towards the end you will need to stir it every few minutes to prevent onions caramelising unevenly or burning! Just do it. Or just buy a jar of onion marmalade……..


  • Preheat oven to 230⁰C (446⁰F).
  • Place the lamb in a heavy casserole dish, on top of half the garlic cloves and rosemary. Rub it lovingly all over. Once you start you won’t be able to stop. It’s slippery and sexy and simply a lot of fun. Lather up your hands and wash them well. Add salt and pepper, rub the meat some more. The Lamb Shoulder. Although you can rub whatever meat you want. Anywhere, anytime…….. we don’t judge.
  • Roast the lamb in the hot oven, uncovered, naked and exposed, for 20 minutes.
  • Reduce the temperature to 140⁰C (290⁰F), put the lid on the pot, plunging Mary’s pet into hot darkness, and leave it to slow-roast for four hours.

  • Using two forks, shred the meat off the bone. The aroma……….. aaaaaaaahhhhhh wow………
  • Top half of a ciabatta roll with some meat, no butter or oil required because the meat is juicy and ooooozing flavours and dribbles. Top with some of the onions and tuck in.
  • If you’d like, pop a few pieces of Danish Feta on top of that – it is sublime………..


The Baron’s recommendation:

The lamb shoulder sounds delicious. I had something very similar in Bordeaux in 2010, but accompanied by some haricot beans. It fell off the bone. Although I drank a Bordeaux then, a varietal from the Cote du Rhone would be more appropriate for the lamb. Cloof’s “The Very Sexy Shiraz” would be spot on.

Ebola for criminals

My blogging mojo went walkabouts for a while. Simply disappeared. Surprisingly enough it was not just taken, like everything else in South Africa where what’s yours is everybody else’s for the taking…. Because the concept of working for what you want is totally sci-fi fantasy around here. From thieving corrupt politicians right down to the scumsucking garbage that trolls the streets looking for the next target to break / steal / vandalise / destroy, the rest of the populace is forced to live in self-imposed prisons, with high walls and electric fences.

I think in most countries across the world, the citizens generally wish to work hard to obtain a higher and better living standard for everyone, the goal is to ELEVATE an entire country’s population to live better, have more, to aim higher. In South Africa I feel like the goal is to drag the entire population DOWN to the same level. It’s too much like hard work to move forward and achieve more and the mentality is that “We must all have equality – DOWN here at the lower-than-sharkshit level”.

Here we strike for better wages for months on end, but the goal is not just to get a higher wage, it is also to tear down, destroy, vandalise, intimidate and generally behave like brainless dimwits born to destroy. I do not understand this seeming inherent will to destroy and tear down everything that hints at possible progress or upliftment. What is it with South Africans that love burning down things? Schools, libraries?? When they ‘protest’ they throw rocks at passing motorists and burn tyres to block roads……. To what end? To look like the dumb fucking braindead scum you are? Why demand electricity, water, higher wages, or even honest Government employees when your behaviour indicates that you are not ready for any of it and sure as hell deserve nothing better than hardship and starvation.

For uttering such thoughts I will be labelled a racist. Fine. It took the new South Africa to turn me into one. If believing that destroying infrastructure and the economy is the behaviour of scumsucking shit makes me a racist then call me what you wish, millions of people cannot and will not condone such despicable behaviour.

Apartheid was vile. It was inexcusable and I have a lower than sharkshit opinion of the potbellied arseholes who enforced it, the same backward blinkered morons who decided who could go where, what the population could watch or buy, they were no better than the criminal garbage trolling our streets today. I believe that most white South Africans feel the same way, after all, the overwhelming majority voted to end Apartheid!

BUT………I need to ask a question…… And the knee-jerk response from most will be that I’m just a fucking racist at heart, instead of actually explaining what I wish I could understand – The Indian population in South Africa suffered under Apartheid too – they were treated as badly as the blacks were, banished to their own ‘areas’ with the same lack of infrastructure and support, prevented from getting ahead in the tightly controlled corporate SA of the day….. and yet, they thrived. DESPITE the racist Government of the day, they educated themselves, they elevated themselves, they created their own infrastructure, started and ran successful businesses – they gave the wankers in Government the big finger by MAKING IT, by achieving and getting ahead DESPITE the obstacles. They got on with it. They didn’t destroy and burn down their schools or infrastructure, they used it against the racist pigs to prove that they were BETTER!

We were talking to Italian visitors about the horror of Apartheid, about the oppression and treatment of people, of fellow citizens, and the lack of education opportunities……. And one gent’s question was simply……. “But what did they do to educate THEMSELVES?”

And that was the question that suddenly shut us all up. Because we couldn’t answer it.

We have been so indoctrinated by the “New South Africa” to believe that all whites are responsible for the desperate poverty and suffering around us, for the crime that is so rife, rape and murder seems gratuitous……. that we don’t lay one tenth of the responsibility or blame at the door of the very people who CHOSE destruction over any other options. When you compare blacks and Indians in SA who were subjected to the same disgusting laws, you have to ask why they are so very different?

I’m also sick of hearing that violent crime is a result of poverty!! Spare us the bullshit. The violent criminals in SA are not stealing for food, or raping for school fees, or murdering for a hot meal, they’re doing it because they enjoy it, it’s like a national sport. They’re doing it because it is so fucking easy to get away with it! Chances of them being caught are slim and news stories all seem to end with the same mantra – no suspects have been arrested, police are investigating. And as for all the bleeding hearts calling for a return of the death penalty – SA has a conviction rate BELOW 10% for murder – so what’s the point?

We spend more on security than we do on retirement funding! Madness! What is Government doing to curb crime? Well……… in MY humble opinion, what would Gov do without the taxes raked in from all the security companies, the fuel they buy for their patrol vehicles, the VAT on insurance premiums and the VAT collected when households have to replace what was violently taken from them……… And then you have to wonder who’s spending the taxes you paid last month, and the month before that…….. you and the miniscule percentage of the population that actually do pay taxes. How disheartening to read almost weekly that yet another politician has somehow helped themselves to a few rands from the tax coffers for their own benefit………..

And then you have opposition parties waving their fingers and shouting at the ‘bad bad politicians’ for being naughty, instead of making simple information available to the sheeple. They don’t care that another politician stole money, most of the population think that only whites pay taxes so it’s okay if it gets stolen. Rather inform the sheeple how many houses the stolen money could have built. How many kilometres of water pipes could have been laid. How many computers schools could have bought with it. Don’t stand there waving that patronising finger – shove it up your arse if you don’t have anything worthwhile to counter dishonest behaviour with other than “oooooooooooh you’ve been a naughty boy!”.

Why am I so angry today? It’s not just today. I am gatvol. Violent strikes, dishonest corrupt politicians, politicians behaving like disorderly pigs in Parliament (WTF?!!!!!!!), toddlers being murdered by fucking criminal cowards, policemen participating in armed robberies, lawlessness on our roads, aggressive little spoilt brats with fast cars, company bosses who spend recklessly (probably the ones who buy their arrogant offspring the shiny fast cars) and then leave a trail of destruction in their wake with suppliers unable to collect payment while the reckless bosses toast their balls in the tropical sun somewhere pretty, mediocrity being the new level of ‘excellence’, reward for incompetence and stupidity, Councils where staff arrive for work and then settle in to have naps all day – I wish I was kidding – staff actually sleep at their desks and we wonder why nothing functions!………. Fuck I could go on and on!!

Over the past two weeks, there have been a few incidents less than 500m from our own home – first, on a Thursday morning, a housekeeper was followed onto the property where she works, by criminal trash and she was raped and stabbed to death before they casually packed up whatever they wanted to take from the house. It doesn’t even make headlines anymore. Sir wrote to one of the popular news radio stations and asked why this lady, who was someone’s mother, sister, daughter, friend mattered so little that she did not even get mentioned, but everyday we are nauseated by blow-by-blow reporting on the Oscar Pistorius trial. Then again, news reports will probably be shockingly long if every one of the estimated 50 murders committed everyday had to be reported on.

Two days later we drove up the same road, which was blocked with police cars, security vehicles and people milling about. Upon enquiry we were informed that criminals had lifted a motorised gate off its rail and gained access to the house they robbed and that it was the 8th incident so far this month in just that one road!! What kind of society are we living in?

Yesterday we had a waffle day at home, 17 people eating, chatting, laughing, socialising…….. while our nextdoor neighbours were held up and terrorised in a home invasion robbery.

Today we are meeting with our security provider to see how much more money we can spend on security because criminal fucking rubbish roams free in this Country…… Decisions decisions…….. keep a panic button handy and risk being shot out of pure spite for even having the cheek to consider it…….. and accept that you are most vulnerable when leaving your driveway or returning home, because when there’s a gun to your head, you do as you’re told. We know. We’ve been there.

I’m gatvol. There are beggars at every intersection WANTING…….. there are criminals who will smash your car windows to grab valuables and run, so you drive with your bag locked in the boot of the car, the beggars get more and more pushy and aggressive….. well guess what guys, I’m done paying. If you want money go and beg at the entrance to fucking Nkandla, line up for a free meal at Tuynhuis. The millions stolen from the tax coffers every year could run soup kitchens and house thousands of homeless people – if you can find someone honest enough to run and manage it…….. why the fuck should I give even more for nothing?!

Car guards expect to be paid for watching your car in a parking lot. What is this? Insurance top-up? Or Pre-Insurance Insurance?

If it’s not beggars accosting you at every turn, it’s criminals! The thought of criminals dropping dead from Ebola makes me feel excited! Imagining them having to watch their own families be subjected to torture feels right. This is what SA has done to my mindset.

Enough already!

I am done feeling sorry for people. 20 years of democracy and SA has become the anal sphincter of the planet and still blames everything on racism, it’s the go-to excuse for everything. Alas, you get what you vote for…..


Glad I could get that off my chest. It’s left me with no appetite. And therefore no recipe.

Stoned Friday

I woke up on Friday morning with a terrible pain in my jaw and in front of my ear. Anti-inflammatory painkiller – no effect. Hot compress – no effect. Massage and sweet-talk…… nada, so I walked around pulling faces and trying to ease the pain by imitating “Dog eating peanut butter”.

By midday the left side of my face was swollen to chipmunkian (YES it is a word now…) proportions. I jumped into my car, placed the chipmunkian jaw on the passenger seat, and went to the doctor hoping he’d issue a Cease and Desist Order to the unwelcome intruders causing my discomfort.

Apparently I was stoned. My salivary gland to be more precise, and said motherfucker calcium stone blocked my salivary duct, causing all the pain and a face that scared even blind children. I was still nursing a vile dose of flu, taking antibiotics and antivirals to fight off the little terrorists that resided within, and left the doc’s rooms with a script for yet more tablets, and an instruction to suck on lemons. I filled the script at the chemist, bought a bag of lemons, and headed home. Sir said something about “Well if sucking will help you………” I wasn’t paying attention, but I think he was offering me some of the mountains of chocolate in his bedside drawer.

I did not realise that everytime I put a wedge of lemon in my mouth, it was like releasing an army of miniature surgeons with scalpels in hand, to shave enamel off my teeth, and by Saturday one kind of pain was replaced by a different kind of discomfort. Besides feeling a bit bruised and battered, my jaw was almost back to its old 44 year old self again, and my teeth got treated with generous lashings of toothpaste for sensitive teeth, applied with my fingers like a soothing ointment…….

In the meantime, the NUMSA strike continues. Our business operations came to a grinding halt three weeks ago and there seems to be no imminent resolution to the impasse between union and employer groups. The behaviour of the marauding masses of strikers has been deplorable, doing nothing to garner sympathy for their cause. I for one feel less than fuckall for them after witnessing this barbaric savage behaviour. It has turned the focus from a need for a decent wage to the basic criminality and short-sightedness of those who DO have jobs in a country with an unemployment rate in excess of 25%.

Light-bulb moment! Haaibo!!! South African strikers / protestors / picketers / marauding masses engaging in barbarism (*now I’m humming tune of BA-BA-BA… BA-BARBARA-ANN!*) do seem to love their sticks! Seriously, WTF! Wherever mass gatherings are to take place, Sir and I could pull in with our little retail wagon, I envisage something like a hotdog cart, but we sell sticks. Short ones, long ones, thick ones, thin ones, painted sticks, beaded sticks, sticks with slogans and sticks with quotes……. We’ll make a fucking killing – with sticks! We could call it “Sticky Issues”. Sticks and puns may break my buns……….

And right now is the perfect time – since we cannot work at the moment and need an alternate source of income…… we could sell to the very people preventing us from producing. (*Now humming ISN’T IT IRONIC?!*)

Why does this pattern exist in South Africa? Why do strikers in all industries behave like violent vandalising scum? Why does the Government stand by watching this with drool dribbling onto their pure silk ties and/or leopard skins? Why not employ decency and intellect? Isn’t it the better way to get enormous support for a cause? The union bosses and employer groups should also, like the striking members, receive no salaries for the duration of these strikes – then perhaps negotiations would be done with more urgency and realism rather than what we perceive to be a “Who has a bigger dick” contest…… Just saying.

I do not understand the lack of economic sense either. Workers strike for extended periods on a no-work-no-pay basis. They then get the increases agreed upon between employer groups and unions, but chances are that their overall annual income is in fact LOWER than the previous year because of the income lost during the strike. The strikes generally impact very negatively on the economy, especially now, with South Africa already showing lacklustre growth and manufacturing figures, and the highest inflation rate since 2010. Prices will go up to compensate for the sad state of the economy, further pushing up the inflation rate, thus swallowing up whatever ‘increase’ workers got, and then some. So rand-for-rand, with a 10% increase, people will have less this year than they did last year. Doesn’t that equate to “Paying to make them pay”? Isn’t this common sense? Isn’t this logic? Or does logic not prevail in Africa?

All this drama has made me feel Oats-so peckish, time to make some crunchies……..

Delicious Oat Crunchies


  • 3 Cups Dessicated Coconut (which, when off, tastes like soap) 
  • 1 Cup Cake Flour (which feels so lekker to twirl your fingers around in)
  • 4 Cups Oats (which makes good floaters)
  • 1 ½ Cups Sugar (which the carb-haters are now branding the new poisonous drug – fuckoff already!)
  • 3ml Salt (which is suddenly regarded as not so evil after all)
  • 5ml Cinnamon (which is to men what vanilla is to women – boner spice)
  • 227g Butter (which is apparently also a big hero again and preferable to margarine! Yay can’t wait for pork fat to take the title!)
  • 3Tbsp Golden Syrup (which my late dad used to eat on a 6mm thick slice of butter on a 6mm thick slice of bread.)
  • 2Tbsp Bicarb (which my friend Barbs used instead of toothpaste during her “Anti-Consumerism” phase….. she also stopped using deodorant then…. I think it was really a “Keep people at continent’s length” phase… Not sure if it’s ended yet, too scared to get close enough to find out.)
  • ¼ Cup Milk (which should be the full cream dairy variety, not goat’s milk, or soya crap, or lactose free…… FFS, have you noticed how many more ‘issues’ people have with foods the more variety becomes available? Refer to anti-consumerism spiel above. Somebody magically has the exact ‘cure’ for ailments hardly anybody had before……… gluten intolerance? Really? All you need to do, is fart. Let it out. Don’t blame the fucking gluten. Stop holding in your farts!)



  • Preheat oven to 180⁰C.
  • Combine all the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.
  • Dissolve the bicarb in the milk, set aside.
  • Melt the butter, stir in the syrup, and then stir it into the dry mix.
  • Add the milk and bicarb and mix well.
  • Press the mixture into a medium sized baking sheet (the mixture must be about 1cm thick)
  • Bake for 20 minutes.
  • Cut into squares while it’s still warm, and then remove from the pan and allow to cool completely.
  • Store in an airtight container.

Leprachaun Sex

Another crazy letter from Sir, this one written to my uncle, the Baron, a couple of years ago.


Dear Baron,

‘Tis obligatory that I wish you and yours a good year, however, I must add quickly that I do not do so very eagerly. I only do so because of the hideous manner in which we are related, and marriage forces me to be “PC” to family.

I also wish to confirm that 10% of any winnings (lotto or other), and/or tax refunds and/or raffles you may enjoy are mine. I am entitled to this because there is somewhere an unwritten African law that says so and this argument of mine will hold up well in any self-respecting “Kangaroo Court”; failing to do so will cause me to become violent and I can do so in the single beat of a Cow Hide Drum. I can change from a docile Italian to a malicious Zulu Warrior with ease and I look menacing wearing my Gucci Leopard Skin and waving my Assegai like deranged Juventus fan.

I hear you asking “What has got into this little Italian Pr***?”..Well good man I shall tell you.

You Mr Baron are a sell-out. You come to our house in December (the 25th to be exact), donning Superga Sneakers (loafers, casual shoes) just a f****** fancy name for “tekkies” – not only did I find them very gay, I also found them very loud. Nooooooooogal they were the so-called “FLAG SHOES” representing the Italian flag…..Personally I think the “tekkie” looks like it kicked a menstruating woman in the front and got Butt f***** by a Leprachaun in the back.

Over and above this you feign to admire all things Italian, from their food to their cars, you purchasing the MiTo drives my point home quite nicely. To add fuel to this little fire you openly chastised me for wanting to own an Audi R8 and you gaaaaaned aan about how un-Italian I am, and that I am a traitor to my nation. But it is not this criticism that painted you a sell-out. It is the news that you have decided to go holiday in France.

Well knock me down with a plume. Why not Italy I ask, to savour proper food and not the cream riddled garlic-laced fancy named kak that the Phraanch call food. I mean this is a nation that eats amphibians’ limbs as a delicacy. In Italy we have true museums and art galleries, unlike the Upmarket Huguenots who needed to steal Leonardo’s Moaning Lisa, to attract dumb tourists like you are soon to be.

We have cars such as FERRARI, MASERATI, ALFA ROMEO and others. What do the Baguette Fuckers have….????

Me thinks that you are an Arty Farty French Gay wannabe, your dream is to drive a Citroen 2CV through “Gay Pari” with Edith Piaf blaring from its miserable speakers, all this with you wearing a Beret and smoking Gauloises (incidently made from fine, slightly dried French Donkey Excrement) and enjoying pretentious wine.

All Jokes aside I am a little green with envy and wish to forward a few pointers for your trip:

  • I am fully aware of your Aviophobia but I shall endeavour to be subtle. As we speak, 4 (four) A380 are grounded (viva the French viva). If I were you I would rather travel to Gauteng in your more trustworthy (Italian Built) MiTo where I could take you to Zoo Lake and kill two birds with one stone, namely you can bag a ladyboy in one of the toilets and secondly we can a set up some clever snares and catch a few “Paddas” which I will gladly braai for you in a delectable SEFRICAN Chutney Marinade and copious amounts of Aromat. And by golly with my finely honed catapult skills I can get us a lekker duck from the lake – that basted with a few brush strokes of Oros will be as good as any Duck L’orange the Eiffeltown has to offer.
  • Bring tons of Euros.
  • If the French do manage to get their sitting ducks off the ground and you do get to Paris I suggest you bring your own soap, as I am sure you know the French wash even less then the British.
  • Bring tons of €.
  • Do not sit next to men whose underwear auto-combusts.
  • Bring tons of €.
  • Do not sit next to men who look like they played a lot of Flight Simulator.
  • Bring tons of €.
  • Fly SAA. French Planes fall out of the sky like flying ants at dusk.
  • The best car rental to use in France is,…wait for it…………………is a company called ES CAR GO …………………….