Storing squeezy honey next to barbecue sauce is an accident waiting to happen. This photo is a waste of web space. I never used to think they looked alike, but in the dingy light of my food cupboard the similarity is striking. It would only take a momentary lapse in concentration for my mug of redbush tea to end up with a distinctly South American tang, or my plate of chips to taste like a swarm of bees have sicked up on it. I’m all for experimenting with flavour, but there's a limit. Every time I reach for one or the other, I intend to put it back on a different shelf, but then forget about it. It’s like my subconscious craves living on the edge. The risk of calamity makes it all worthwhile; you should see me on Heroin. Don’t let it be said that I didn’t have any warning. Only with a foul taste in my mouth will I finally learn my lesson. Then I’ll make one of those foreboding ‘never retrieve a Frisbee from an electrical substation /...
A blog from the actormusocomic. "Devastatingly witty" (EdFestMag)