zapped panini

It’s fucking freezing this morning, literally. Ice all over the shop. The ride in was fraught with horrific danger, black ice nestling in tarmac, on concrete, waiting to remove the traction of an unwitting tyre and slam some poor cunt teeth first into the ground. For the most part of my journey I rode in back brake only, sliding on the rear can have correctable consequences, but front brake on ice and you go in one direction whilst the machine goes in another, usually with hurty and expensive consequences.

Still, I’m not complaining, it’s another stunning day and one less to my leaving for Christmas, yes I have a shit load of work to do before then but my optimism informs me that this will only lubricate the passage of time towards my break. An unadulterated ‘goody’.

Yesterday at lunch, right here in this fucking office, I did something I’ve never done before. This may seem incredulous but I can assure all of you, that until yesterday at 13.17 I’d never used a microwave oven. I’ve never a need for them, my parents didn’t have one when I was living at home (they do now) and I’ve always regarded them with deep suspicion, which over the years has transmogrified into fearful distain. I don’t like things that radiate molecules; I was in CND for years don’t you know, and not being a lazy eater I’ve never had any need for them despite how good they may be at ‘reheating food’, the single reason people throw at me to justify having one when they know that they only have the appliance because they’re fucking bone-idle…

So what led me to break my microwave virginity? Simple, a fucking sandwich in the Co-Op. I’d seen them lurking in there for the past week, snappy packaging boasting a panini with cheese and roasted chicken norks. It was suitably cold yesterday to force me into a shame spiral of what might be if I had one in my possession, a hot lunch (not as in the urban dictionary definition of one, look it up if you’re wondering what that might be…) as opposed to a cold sandwich. I returned to the office clutching my ill-gotten gains and approached the microwave contraption full of trepidation. After a good 5 minutes I’d sort of figured out how it worked, full power for 1.20 mins, turn the sandwich over and do the same on the other side. To my complete joy I removed a piping hot panini, cooked to perfection, hotter than the sun and completely delicious, damn it all I am having another one today. But I still wouldn’t have one of those zappy things in the house, I was in CND for years don’t you know, I remember Chernobyl and Tokaimura too.

Fill up your crack pipe and let the good times roll

4 responses to “zapped panini

  • roszs

    They were my favourite band when I was a teenager, and the first band I ever saw live. GOOD CHOICE SIR. I am all a-cheered now!

  • Napoleon Cockaparte

    Ha ha! Couldn’t agree more! Bravo! It’s because Jacques Delores and his comrades in the EEC think they can kick down Britain’s door and proceed to piss all over her furniture that we’re in the mess we are today. Well, all fifteen readers of Piqued will be delighted to know the fight back has begun! Sick of being told what to do by what amounts to a Belgian paedophile in wolf’s clothing feasting on your grandmother’s British bones? Then visit where you’ll see I’m keeping my beady eye on these European devils!

  • piqued

    My dear Roszs, I’ve seem The Lemonheads and Evan Dando LOADS and I too love them a lotz

    Mr. NC, you owe me 78p for you blatant advertising on these hollowed pages, cough up or I’ll give you a hot lunch

  • Napoleon Cockaparte

    I can guarantee you that that 78p would be increased to the outrageous sum of 95p if it weren’t for sites such as keeping their eyes on flippant EEC spending regulations. I for one have had it up to here watching Europe fumbling in Britannia’s bra and siphoning off her precious milk of freedom to use in their ridiculous coffee concoctions. That milk is for the tea that fuels a Briton’s mind and spurrs him on to invent the modern world! It’s not there for Italians to piss down the toilet of slapdash European idleness.

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