Onions

Yesterday I was force-fed raw onions. They were sneakily snuck into my OT dinner, in truly malevolant diced form, so that i couldn't remove them. I can't understand why anyone would want to eat such a odorous vegetable - the smell clings to your breath, and possibly even your soul, for a good 16 hours after consumption. I suppose it's the same mentality as the whole kebab eating thing. You go out drinking in some over-priced London pub, and at closing time it makes complete sense to stagger into an eatery of questionable quality and demand a shiny, grey donner kebab from a man with more body hair than Lassie. Happily munching away on your quivering mass of unidentifiable flesh, you think little of the next day, when your mouth tastes like something crawled in there to die and you wonder whether you will ever feel right again.

bleurgh.

So, the moral of this story is that if you ever have to cook me dinner, please avoid kebabs and make the raw onions easily flingable.