Home » Musings » Toasties (the reinvention)

horsesWe’re riding our horses freeeeeeeeeeeeeee wheeeeeeee like the winddddddd, this must mean it is Friday where the trees are green, the sun is shiny shiny, an acoustic version of a Bruno Mars track is playing, he’s singing about the moon as he does, moon crooning, and WE ARE GO GO GO GO this means it is time to put on your Friday gear and gallop off into the sunrise shouting MONKEY BALLS ARE ON ME.

This week (again yawn) magic happened, I was taken on a magical (the clue was right monkily there in the title) mystery ride by a genial genie type gentle old lady to a lake (it’s not that kind of lake, but definitely that kind of lake), she was on a mission (let’s call her Marsha on a magical mission) to invent a new inflight snack that revolutionised the way consume snacks 38,000 feet up, this was her to contribution to having been on over 1000 flights in ten years. She’d invented the ShakeyShakeyYouMakeMeCrazyBoomBoomBoom (although to be fair she wasn’t 100% on the name, during our entire drive she’d changed the name like a hundred times WOOAHHHHHHH YEAHH, come on now, is it called the ShakeyShakey this or is it that, once she just referred to it as the ShShBmBm, anyway I feel we’re digressing here in the total wrong tangerine tangent), but tell me did you sail across did you make it to the milky way? Did you fall from a shooting starrrrrrrrrrrr, maybe, maybe you did.

We drove for 3.1 miles when she slammed on the metaphorical brakes, hold it she sold HOLD IT (now, look, I’ll do the puns here) I’VE GOT IT. We were talking little pringle tubes, the boxes of crisps (boxes yes, I mean what kind of world do we live in where our crisps are now coming in boxes, boxes boxes boxes, well, girl, you’ll be a woman sooooooonnnnnn, don’t let them make up yo mind, don’t you know girllllll you’re be a wooooooman soon, please come take maaaaaaaaaaaaa hand (jingle jangle jingle jangle), the box’s no good. She said, imagine this , a ham toastie, but one that’s not too hot to try and open, one where the cheese doesn’t burn the roof of your mouth, and maybe JUST FUGGGIN maybe the mustard is Dijon (and not a violent soul-bending, mind-retching, brain melding, dog dangling BRIGHT YELLOW so bright that the woman next to you thinks you’ve flicked her light on above you, no lady, this is friggin fluorescent mustard that not only looks like you just dug it out from a rockface kind of mustard, so yellow, not even yellow, it’s like a colour yet invented so bright you can’t look right at it, hotter than the sun, brighter than the sun, sunnier than the sun, that’s what it should be called actually; ‘I can’t believe it’s not the facking sun mustard’ with a warning on it (in bright yellow obvs) saying ‘Warning, may cause blindness, madness, stomach aches, a slight fondness for Bruno Mars, mild amnesia…. …. …. Ah that was too easy, wait, wha? Where am I? I can call you Betty right?

So, a toastie, but not like you know it, each bite is different but not like slightly different, that would be stupid, duhhh, the first bite (that didn’t scar you physically or mentally, wow, I’ll never forget the time I had my shorts on flying back from Tenerifeeee when a glob of cheese fell onto my thigh, not only do I still have the scar but it scarred me in the shape of an exclamation mark (an upside down one which was perfect for Spain) Yeaaahhhhh hhhha hahahahahhhahhahahahahahhahahahahhah You know what I MEAN. So, ruddy rudders get to the point batman, I will I will, but that’s what happens with mental turbulence, you never know when it’s going to ShakeyShakeyBoomBOOm. Right, the first bite of ShShBmBm is gin n’ tonic to whet your appetite, then comes the toastie (but not the toastie you know) this is the Rollsy Roycey of toasties, the Ferrero rocher of the brevilleness (why your brevilleness you are spoiling us with your toasties, oof yeah, imagine a towering silver platter of toasties (I said) (imagine) (itttttt) (oh noooooooo) (fackery) (I knew this would happen) (the brackets) (have uprisen) (everythin) (is) (now)(in)(friggin)(brackets)(even)(the)(g)(I)(missed)(Out)(iN)(everythin)(before)(what a drag it the shape am in, I cannnnnnt get noooooo sleep, this was bound to appen).

Look.

We’re doing this you and I.

You’re in it, I am in it, if you’ve come this far (3.1miles) maybe you wanna come a little further? (if not skip to the end, actually the skipping is optional, maybe a brisk walk, skipping came sometimes be frowned upon, I skipped all the way to the station last Thursday crikey, that’s the last time I do thattttt thank you very mash potatoes.

3.1miles in and Marsha on a mission (remember) comes out with the revolutionary snack for planes, the ShakeySh…. Basicallly it’s gin n’ tonic poured over a toastie (that doesn’t burn you AND has Dijon mustard).

At 3.4miles I said heeee-ohhh, ohhh-yeahhhhh, heeeey heyyy heyyyyy, gave Marsha a business card and got the hell outta dodge man. It was a journey, phew, I mean that’s nuts right (oh wait no, am thinking of nuts, nuts IS nuts yes). I don’t even really like toasties, I was just humouring her. I was sure humus and pitta was the future of snacks, but hey, I put it in the suggestion box (not of crisps)(sheesh)(I mean seriously)(….)(who the clickclackery came up with the idea of crisps in a friggin box, I bet in the board meeting they’d all applauded, there were cheers, cries of ‘genius’, off shoot meetings where they brainstormed Dolly Parton doing a song for the advert, Kenny Rogers giving it the green light, fools.
Maybe I was wrong to walk away from this magical moment, it was cool, it was the giggle on the goose’s guitar sure, but maybe I was grumpy, maybe I was having a moment, maybe I was freaked out by lake (not that kind of lake), maybe, maybe, baby.

God I love mustard though, I LOVE MUSTARD SHINY HORSEY, it’s a fine looking high horse, it looks tasty, this is hungry work, but it’s Friday, and let’s face it, that’s when everything comes together. It doesn’t matter princes or princesses if you like toasties with ham jam thank you mam, if you have a tongue made of asbestos, an upside-down exclamation point scar, not on a Friday sir, no, it’s all goof.

If you’ve come this far then I think we are toastie kindred spirits (gin or no gin, which quite brilliantly is the next show coming from Noel Lion-mane Edmonds, I cannot wait, ok I’ll wait).
It’s Friday, you know what that means, I hope you’ve got your dancing shoes/ skirt/ hoodie on, I am wearing all of them and more, there is a smile in my soul, a doughnut (vanilla) in my bag (that I am about to eat right now on the train, laissez faire that’s meeeeeeee).

CHoo choo beep beep shakey shakey boom boom, happy frideeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, peace in.

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