I've been asked to do a voiceover. The agency is submitting one of our ads for a big award, and they've asked me to provide the narration. Gulp. And also, how exciting.
I always think I sound as squeaky and pathetic as Julie Burchill, but it's possible I've got that wrong.
Anyway, I get to sit in a sound booth in Soho for two hours, taking 'direction' from two very nice guys who've written the ad. I'm looking forward to it. Two hours of talking? I can do that.
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Thursday, 15 March 2012
238. Cheeseburgers
This is surely too obvious to have been left until 238? Am I repeating myself? But no - don't think so.
It's so obvious I'm not sure exactly what to say. It's grilled or fried meat, in a roll, with melted cheese on top. If you're suffering from rickets or kwashiorkor I'll allow you to eat the salad they always put in cheeseburgers, otherwise you should take it out. Or order a salad.
I have yet to visit any of the 'cool' new burger places in London - Meat Liquor, Lucky Chip, etc. I would like to, as a good cheeseburger is hard to find, but I'm too old and grumpy to stand in a queue surrounded by twiglets who will only pretend to eat the burger. Maybe I could do a deal with a twiglet whereby she did the queueing and I did the eating? If she refused, I would just eat her. I like Twiglets.
Anyway. Home-made cheeseburgers are good as long as you are extremely specific about everything. You need a decent quality roll. You need decent quality meat (of course) - minced steak at very least or preferably minced chuck for a nice flavour. Don't muck about with the meat. You don't really need mustard/egg/capers/herbs mixed with the mince, but it's your burger so do what you want. Oil the meat, not the pan. Put cheese on meat as soon as you've turned it or it won't melt properly. YOU DO NOT NEED SALAD. Gherkins, onion, relish - up to you. Eat.
I don't see the point of Sliders. Why would you have a small cheeseburger on purpose? Baffling.
Do not eat cheeseburgers on a date. Did that in the very early days with Herself, and had to sit staring sadly at a burger I knew would be delicious, but I couldn't eat it in front of her. I did a lot of smoking and drinking in those days until I got over myself. She had no such concerns I remember, and cheerfully went on eating normally. She's good like that, is Herself. Imperturbable. I am irretrievably perturbed.
It's so obvious I'm not sure exactly what to say. It's grilled or fried meat, in a roll, with melted cheese on top. If you're suffering from rickets or kwashiorkor I'll allow you to eat the salad they always put in cheeseburgers, otherwise you should take it out. Or order a salad.
I have yet to visit any of the 'cool' new burger places in London - Meat Liquor, Lucky Chip, etc. I would like to, as a good cheeseburger is hard to find, but I'm too old and grumpy to stand in a queue surrounded by twiglets who will only pretend to eat the burger. Maybe I could do a deal with a twiglet whereby she did the queueing and I did the eating? If she refused, I would just eat her. I like Twiglets.
Anyway. Home-made cheeseburgers are good as long as you are extremely specific about everything. You need a decent quality roll. You need decent quality meat (of course) - minced steak at very least or preferably minced chuck for a nice flavour. Don't muck about with the meat. You don't really need mustard/egg/capers/herbs mixed with the mince, but it's your burger so do what you want. Oil the meat, not the pan. Put cheese on meat as soon as you've turned it or it won't melt properly. YOU DO NOT NEED SALAD. Gherkins, onion, relish - up to you. Eat.
I don't see the point of Sliders. Why would you have a small cheeseburger on purpose? Baffling.
Do not eat cheeseburgers on a date. Did that in the very early days with Herself, and had to sit staring sadly at a burger I knew would be delicious, but I couldn't eat it in front of her. I did a lot of smoking and drinking in those days until I got over myself. She had no such concerns I remember, and cheerfully went on eating normally. She's good like that, is Herself. Imperturbable. I am irretrievably perturbed.
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
237. Champagne
Just while we're on the subject...
I don't drink cocktails. There are too many of them and most seem to have silly names, ergo they are not real drinks. (Although for accuracy's sake I should tell you that I did have a gimlet recently and it was entirely splendid)
But there you are, in your best clobber, looking mighty fine, waiting for your lover/friend/boss to arrive at the restaurant/bar/hotel. You're a bit buzzy and need a drink. What do you order? Wine's too boring, cocktails have silly names (and unless you're in Mad Men are honestly a bit challenging on the classy front), and you're not a teenager so Coke is out of the question. So - one word...
Champagne. Don't give it a name unless you're going to say Krug, Pol Roger or Veuve Clicquot. If you're a pimp you can have a glass of Cristal. If you know that you should say the T on the end and are ENTIRELY confident that the barman knows that too - by all means go ahead and order a glass of Moet. Otherwise whatever they decide to give you is fine. Faffing about with it will kill the mood stone dead.
Hold it by the stem, never the bowl, unless you want warm Champagne. Which you don't. Remember that if you lift your chin and your glass at the same time you'll be showing your lovely neck off to its best advantage, as well as avoiding the likelihood of spillage. Boys, that goes for you, too.
Good Champagne perfectly chilled is a luscious, naughty sip. It might make you feel luscious and naughty. Hope so. Chin chin darlings.
I don't drink cocktails. There are too many of them and most seem to have silly names, ergo they are not real drinks. (Although for accuracy's sake I should tell you that I did have a gimlet recently and it was entirely splendid)
But there you are, in your best clobber, looking mighty fine, waiting for your lover/friend/boss to arrive at the restaurant/bar/hotel. You're a bit buzzy and need a drink. What do you order? Wine's too boring, cocktails have silly names (and unless you're in Mad Men are honestly a bit challenging on the classy front), and you're not a teenager so Coke is out of the question. So - one word...
Champagne. Don't give it a name unless you're going to say Krug, Pol Roger or Veuve Clicquot. If you're a pimp you can have a glass of Cristal. If you know that you should say the T on the end and are ENTIRELY confident that the barman knows that too - by all means go ahead and order a glass of Moet. Otherwise whatever they decide to give you is fine. Faffing about with it will kill the mood stone dead.
Hold it by the stem, never the bowl, unless you want warm Champagne. Which you don't. Remember that if you lift your chin and your glass at the same time you'll be showing your lovely neck off to its best advantage, as well as avoiding the likelihood of spillage. Boys, that goes for you, too.
Good Champagne perfectly chilled is a luscious, naughty sip. It might make you feel luscious and naughty. Hope so. Chin chin darlings.
Monday, 12 March 2012
236. Fizzy Fridays
The week is long. The weekend is short. So how better to say 'ha!' to one and 'hello, darling' to the other, than with a glass of champagne? None. That's how. So Fizzy Fridays were established, and it's a great invention.
I wish I could claim credit for it, but I can't. I stole it from Nigel Slater. I think he was writing about KitKats at the time, but he mentioned routinely opening a bottle of champagne at the end of the working week and a huge alcoholic lightbulb went on over my head.
It doesn't have to be champagne (although it is worth going for the real deal. You don't have to drink it all ((note to self)) and then you can have another glass with Saturday's lunch) but it does have to be fizzy. Have whatever you like. Herself likes Prosecco, which is lovely, but I like the hard-core dryness that only comes from real Champagne, and I like feeling that I'm worth it.
So this Friday sling your satchel in the corner, turn up the stereo and pour yourself a glass of champagne. You'll soon see - it's not called bubbly for nothing.
I wish I could claim credit for it, but I can't. I stole it from Nigel Slater. I think he was writing about KitKats at the time, but he mentioned routinely opening a bottle of champagne at the end of the working week and a huge alcoholic lightbulb went on over my head.
It doesn't have to be champagne (although it is worth going for the real deal. You don't have to drink it all ((note to self)) and then you can have another glass with Saturday's lunch) but it does have to be fizzy. Have whatever you like. Herself likes Prosecco, which is lovely, but I like the hard-core dryness that only comes from real Champagne, and I like feeling that I'm worth it.
So this Friday sling your satchel in the corner, turn up the stereo and pour yourself a glass of champagne. You'll soon see - it's not called bubbly for nothing.
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