This is a late-ey and a quickie, lovers, and because it’s my birthday let’s celebrate like a swan taking its sweet time to cross a road!
We know all about Emma and Jane already: Jane is anal and Emma probably wants anal – but only from Steve. Jane has grabbed a busted Hungry Jacks crown from 1985, banged it on her head and called herself ‘Dessert Queen’, and Emma isn’t wearing a crown because Emma is hell bent on getting her kit off, not adding more on.
Anyhoo, menu tonight is those deep fried rice balls, salmon for main and Fergus’ childhood treat: the icecream sandwich.
Shopping is a bit of a yawn, with the exception of that scene-stealing fame-whore swan, and their restaurant has the dullest name this season: Wisteria, which Rico reckons is such a waste when Emma probably would have gone with ‘Root Me Steve’.
The other guests are typically holding high expectations about the dessert, whereas Fatty Tony of the ’48 and at the bottom of the leader board fame’ says he doesn’t particularly wish anyone ill, but if they die horribly at the hands that psychotic bitch Bianca – excellent!
Our greased-up Irish God, Fergus, on the other hand, reckons that while they have set themselves up for dessert-critique, he’ll be content with moist, pink insides because VAGINAS!
While the girls get started, Jane sets the stage for a charming fuck-up by putting hot stuff in her ice-cream and expecting the process not to shit itself. Meanwhile outside, Katie has turned up in a pastel maxi-dress with chunky, black heels and the Dog mutters that this is a fashion faux pa worse than Lynn in those skinny-cut zebra jeans and he’ll only take off the blind fold if Rob shows up without his hat.
Unfortunately for the Dog, Rob has no intention of rising from his chair in the dining room and declaring himself a hairless old bastard. Still, there’s other entertainment to take our minds off it in the form of Emma’s excitement that Steve hasn’t lived up to his threat of sending in his body-double.
According to Drasko, Emma is so high up on the Want to Root Steve scale, he can only just see her knickers if he squints really, really hard. Bianca reckons it doesn’t matter where Emma is, because if she can’t cook, Steve certainly won’t be offering up his penis.
Self-confessed arch nemeses, Katie and Nikki, reckon Emma’s desperation stinks worse than the time Nikki mistook a sausage for a tampon, and watching her hit a brick wall of closet homosexuality over and over will make even three courses of brilliance worthwhile.
Some more cooking later and Fergus arrives with a slightly more polished mop than usual and a ruthless haggis of a hangover.
Thankfully the first course is the deep fried rice balls, however, and in a salute to Fergus’ need for grease, the arancini are the size of boulders.
‘Fookin’ great!’ mumbles Fergus through a mouthful of crispy coating, while Katie complains about the simplicity of the parmesan crisp with no notion it took the girls the better part of TWENTY YEARS.
Next is the main and Emma has a great time playing chemist with the vinaigrette while Jane gets going on the potatoes.
Back at the table and Steve is talking about the importance of filleting one’s own fish and if the girls don’t do it then they don’t FEEL food the way he does and someone hand the poor, emotional lad a sun dress.
Drasko, meanwhile, reckons he used to lure teenage girls to his house, cook them salmon and beg them to be his girlfriend.
‘Did any say yes?’ wonders Fergus.
‘Of course!’ beams Drasko, who says not only did he have a different hairstyle, but that Corgi’s have an unusual thirst for seafood.
Out comes the salmon and Fergus is so keen on the insides, he doesn’t really care that the oustide wouldn’t stand up under decent lighting.
Drasko reckons the salmon is screaming ‘eat me’, but Rico reckons he’s just misheard and if the salmon heard his previous story it’s probably just screaming.
First to do orgasm-face at the table is Will, and Steve waxes so long and lyrical about the dish as a whole that Will’s comes for real and his napkin is forced into service at both ends.
In the kitchen and dessert is underway, as is a visit from Fergus to tell them a little story:
‘When I was a lad me mam used to give me an ice cream sandwich every time I went out to play and didn’t fook-up one of the neighbour’s toddlers!’ he gushes.
‘We’re screwed’ mutters Emma, because not only is their ice cream crappy, she tends to pass out after a single punch.
Out go the plates and Fergus feels robbed of both his treat and his ability to smash the teeth out of a small child.
Team scores come out and so-called nemeses, Nikki and Katie, give them the highest score of all: 6, while the rest of them give fives, even though Lynn was dead keen on a four because like that would have helped their chances.
Fergus, who is no longer hungover just hungering for a minor to take his fists to, gives them a four a six and a five. And because Emma can’t do addition for shit, she has to wait for the bitter disappointment of Lynn’s face and the thrill of the kill on Bianca’s.
Until our English Princes, lovers!