Smooth. Very smooth. Not very strong of flavour. It's like a ladies brie I would say.
So I was looking at the previously mentioned cheese quotes (some classic stuff here) and I noticed this quote:
“Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.”
― G.K. Chesterton, Alarms and Discursions
Well. Have they indeed? It just so happens that I am a poet and I think I will now be addressing Mr Gilbert Chestertons concerns on the matter:
Dappled sunlight strokes my face, my eyes
The rustle of leaves caresses my ears
A wind breathes softly like a lovers sigh
I long to touch your soft skin,
For your taste upon my lips
To feel your comfort deep within
I miss your smell,
And to see you glisten in the sunlight
But alas, I have no cheese
See now that only took me 2 minutes too. Work of art. I call it: "Picnic without any cheese is bloody down right disappointing"
So last night I dreamt that the Scottish were out to get us all. Quite simply it was a cull, if you were not Scottish, you were a goner.
"Eh, arrr yoo Scott-ish?"
"Err... Ay?"
"Okey dokey then!"
Phew! Avoided certain death there.. But something has to be done! If only I knew where my sword was.. It's not in the house, of that I'm sure. "But it is in the house!" she says. I take a moment to regard that face I know so well. I don't trust her.. The sword must be outside somewhere. Fearfully, I venture into the street. She tries to stop me but I ignore her tiresome bleating. To hell with you foul succubus! Outside it is quiet, overcast and cool and barely a soul in site. I walk on, eyes darting for the tell tale sign of a bloody thirsty Scot.. And then I see one, wild ginger hair, bagpipes kilt and all.
Blast it, where did I leave that sword?? It's not that woman's leg... (..? I have no idea but it made some kind of sense as I dreamt it.)
This makes no sense to me now whatsoever but a good effort by Cambozola:
9/10
So last night I dreamt that the Scottish were out to get us all. Quite simply it was a cull, if you were not Scottish, you were a goner.
"Eh, arrr yoo Scott-ish?"
"Err... Ay?"
"Okey dokey then!"
Phew! Avoided certain death there.. But something has to be done! If only I knew where my sword was.. It's not in the house, of that I'm sure. "But it is in the house!" she says. I take a moment to regard that face I know so well. I don't trust her.. The sword must be outside somewhere. Fearfully, I venture into the street. She tries to stop me but I ignore her tiresome bleating. To hell with you foul succubus! Outside it is quiet, overcast and cool and barely a soul in site. I walk on, eyes darting for the tell tale sign of a bloody thirsty Scot.. And then I see one, wild ginger hair, bagpipes kilt and all.
Blast it, where did I leave that sword?? It's not that woman's leg... (..? I have no idea but it made some kind of sense as I dreamt it.)
This makes no sense to me now whatsoever but a good effort by Cambozola:
9/10
Greetings Koob. I be Dan, occasional ruler of Monsterland and frequent consumer of cheese.
ReplyDeleteI told Jane this story, and she showed me this blog, so I am now sharing it with you, you LUCKY LUCKY MAN.
Here goes the tale:
When I was about 18 I was camping with my mate and two girls in Dorset, and we didn't have proper food so ended up eating a ridiculous rice and cheese concoction that had shitloads of cheddar in it. We had a bottle of cider between us, then settled down to sleep.
In the middle of the night, I woke up absolutely convinced that my mind had been taken over by a malignant alien entity, and this was a patch of clarity I'd managed to wrestle from it. I got up and opened the zip of the tent and went out into the camp site, thinking that the only thing I could do to defeat it was to kill myself. I wandered around the camp site for a few minutes going absolutely fucking nuts - and gradually a sane part of my brain managed to convince the rest of it that I'd just gone mad, and needed to ask someone for help. I was actually holding the zip of a strangers tent, with my shaking hand about to pull it up, when I realised I would sound absolutely fucking bonkers, and they'd probably have me committed. I found my way back to the tent and woke my friends up, jabbering about aliens - and they finally talked me back to sanity and I got back to sleep, and woke up in the morning normal.
It was fucking MENTAL - far more so than any experience I've ever had smoking dope or taking speed, mushrooms or acid. Cheese FTW!
Thanks for sharing this Dan - amazing stuff! I sneakily checked my emails during a microsoft crm training session the other day having completed my tasks and spent the next 20 minutes crying and having convulsive fits and desperately trying not to roll around on the floor laughing. As soon as I regained a semblance of control I'd have another fit, spit coffee across the room and feebly attempt to cover it up with a coughing fit. Nobody paid me any notice, I suppose they just thought I was some kind of madman in the corner of the room. Anyway it made my day slightly more bearable. It really wasn't a message I was expecting.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in Rome I had a cheese flambéed pasta dish. Similarly to yourself, I woke at some ungodly hour of the morning only rather than go mad I was desperate to shit and/or vomit. It was impossible - I had created some kind of monstrous cheese baby and all I could think of doing was wrapping myself in cling-film and drinking strong liquors in order to melt this guy out of my system.
Bloody horrible experience.
Anyway, I have decided to try to recreate your experience at some point in the coming weeks. Perhaps rice, cheddar and cider is the magic combo!
P.s. I haven't drawn any monsters for a while but it makes me happy browsing through them!
Heh - nice. I intend to eat a hundredweight of Halloumi at lunch. I shall send you a message from the asylum.
ReplyDelete