The Anti-Nigella
You know
Nigella Lawson? She shits me. She loves the food, loves cooking, loves everything about it. The food is erotic, the smells are alluring, the utensils are empowering, the appliances are magical, the stove is sizzling, the fridge is wintry, the pantry is welcoming, the plates are delectable, the napkins are cuddly, and a toothpick between your teeth is a wicked excess for the orally tidy. Wink at the camera.
She loves cooking as much as I love watching Charmed. Naked.
Now, I don’t like cooking. Just for balance, I’d like to see the polar opposite of Nigella get his own show. It wouldn’t be a big show, most people wouldn’t like him, but I’d like him. You might be flicking channels and find this guy behind a kitchen bench, saying “Now watch out for this stuff, it feels real icky, and tastes dodgy. I’ll be getting’ takeaway tonight. Now a lot of people love
this stuff. Never trust seafood. Smells weird. Spices! Chuck em in the bin. Spices are too strong, appliances are baffling, your stove is a deathtrap, the fridge is septic, the pantry is alarming, my plates are disposable, cutlery is annoying, napkins are a waste of money (you got sleeves, right?), and a toothpick in the carpet is a vicious booby trap for the bare-footed.
