Another Damned Food Blog has me howling with laughter over almost every post. It might be Cape-Town-centric, but it’s still well worth a read for those not from here. Even if you don’t recognise the people/places, you’ll recognise the restaurant industry types and clichés.
… Call me al dente but I’m fucking unstoppable. Untouchable. I’m so hot I’ll burn your palate. I farm my own beef. I catch my own tuna. I screw my own waitresses. I fucking do it all. I’m a fucking Jedi restaurateur. I’m a fucking cash-filled cannelloni. I’m a fucking walking statue of myself. I’m Batman motherfuckers. You want ketchup with your fries? Campa cavallo! No! Not in my fucking house! You want your steak well-done? Take a walk. Off a bridge. I’m too busy for that Panarotti shit. Some people say I bit off more than I can chew. Some people can go suck my mozzarella balls. I’m handling this shit. Bitches wanna cut me down. I’ll harpoon the fuckers. I’ll demolish you. Like Rhodes House. Yeah, boo hoo. My heart pumps second-press olive oil for you. But how’s that fucking parking lot now? All my Benzies be safe.
