|
The thought of Tmac eating a bean burger and sipping a diet coke is unsettling, very unsettling. And it could catch on. Perhaps not.
Nothing raises the mood of Jolly Jack on a dark, wet Febury evening than the aroma of a hot whiskey, a bowl of Irish Stew with onioney champ. As we say in East Antrim:-
Champ, champ, gie us mair champ
Wairms yer sowl when its cowl an damp
Champ, champ on yer plate
Wae a wadge o butter hi, herd tae bate.
I may be being carried away, its the lack of rib-eyes.
|