Short and late one here lovers due to the fact that Rico spent most of last night sticky taping goon casks together to form a giant one he’s now rocking in.
So, what can we say about Nelly and JP other than they are two people with less sexual chemistry than a pair of spatulas. Yes they say they’re in love, and yes the MKR editing team tried hard by reusing that same shot of them hugging to different music, but at the end of the day the only time the Dog or I detected a spark was when the lumps appeared in the mash and Nelly came face-to-face with a sweet, dark stranger called the F-Word.
Rico reckons the tea is the problem because people who drink tea out of fancy pots are not likely to sweep said fancy pots off the table in order to spontaneous-root on top of it. And while there’s nothing wrong with them physically, JP has one of those slightly curvaceous bottoms and Nelly is a clapper which would be completely annoying if you were in the hotel room next door.
Anyhoo, they cooked pretty good and it was fun watching them peck at each other over the mash and seeing JP’s woman’s bottom scurry from service station to service station. The Manu thing was annoying though because when turd was splattering the fan in Cheryl and Matty’s Instant Restaurant, you didn’t see Manu sliding into the kitchen with a bar of Cadbury’s (or better yet, some sort of explosive).
Another big talking point throughout the night was Jessica, because somehow the other teams seem unable to comprehend the notion that someone can love something, and yet choose not to eat it. Rico reckons this is complete garbage and he feels for Jessica because he really loves puppies but chooses not to eat them because he doesn’t want his first sexual encounter to be in prison.
Anyhoo tonight are Nev and Kell – Nev who apparently stole his brother’s wife, and Kell who apparently saw a long future for her children in psychotherapy. According to the adverts something they cook will make Skinny Pete writhe in ecstasy, but because the adverts also lied about JP developing a sudden terror of commitment on national television, we’re not giving up on Alex and Gareth just yet.
And on a final note: to all of you who shared our page, thank you from the bottom of our tiny, blackened hearts. We do not get paid for what we do, and some days, when we’re fleeing from the security dogs outside of Thirsty Camel, we wonder if we shouldn’t just get real jobs that don’t inspire people to say ‘yeah, but you’re not like writer, writers are you!’
Keep up the love, lovers! With your support we may just wake up one afternoon to an email from a boxed claret company wanting to advertise on our page.