Friday, 10 October 2008

Date It, Fuck It, Kill It, Cook It, Eat It

I like my food, but have never been a 'foodie', or even much of a gourmet. Simple, tasty, nourishing dishes, in ample quantities, with beer and wine, and an extra portion of chips, is what works for me.

The only TV chef I ever liked was Keith Floyd, because he was usually drunk and charming, and would quote Bob Dylan lyrics. He once managed to fit an entire verse of Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues into a recipe.

He was also responsible for Kiwi Fruit and the Stranglers, two elements of Eighties culture without which life under Mrs. Thatcher would have been even harder to bear.

But times change, and now we have now we have to be entertained by gastric gnomes like Anthony Worral Thompson, Giles Coren (the humourless son of a humorist), and Jamie Oliver, whose tongue seems too large for his mouth and capable of vasodilation, which may explain why a) he talks in that lisping fake Cockney accent of his and b) he has managed to marry quite an attractive woman. Jamie is currently annoying the population of Rotherham.

But it gets worse.

Thirty miles up the M1 from Rotherham, the top match on Google for "seasoned and fried" is now the murder trial of Anthony Morley of Leeds, who went on a date with Damian Oldfield, after which he took him home, had sex with him, cut his throat, stabbed him repeatedly, then carved a piece of flesh from his thigh, seasoned it with fresh herbs and fried it in olive oil.

Morley then walked to his local takeaway kebab shop, wearing a bloodstained dressing gown and flip-flops, and told staff: "I have killed someone, call the police."

Isn't this just typical? One minute he's all pretentious and showing off, with his olive oil and herbs, like he thinks he's Paul bloody Newman or someone, then as soon as he's got what he wants, he's off down the kebab shop in a dirty dressing gown! Mr Morley, I'm afraid, is a cannibal bulimic and a junk food junkie, and very much in the closet about all of it.

I think Mr. Morley hasn't exactly been honest about his sexuality either, come to think of it. In 1993, he won a beauty contest as Mr. Gay UK. According to a contemporary report, to win the title he had to beat off stiff competition in front of a nightclub audience in Blackpool. (Oo-err, missus) I'm not sure I could have managed that.

Then, he was the "gay scene's best known and talked about lad" who listed as his hobbies "pleasing other people". Now he says he's never been happy being gay, and claims the other man raped him. Sad, if it's true, but still no reason to kill your date and eat them.

1 comment:

KAZ said...

I thought this case must be something from Victorian Jack the Ripper days until I followed the link.
Bring back Keith.