YOU’RE at an event and there’s a buffet. How can you beat everyone else to hog the best stuff? Use these tactics:
Often a buffet follows some boring speech about how much we’ll all miss the deceased or whatever. Ignore that. Scope what’s there, plan your route, be ready for your turn on the tongs. Preparation is the difference between stuffed mushrooms and chicken Kievs on your plate.
If you’re serious about being the buffet GOAT, you’ve got to go in hungry. But not too hungry or you’ll make bad decisions and end up with a plate full of crisps. Drop a Lion bar around 30 minutes before kick off and you’ll be primed to bring the pain to those chili tiger prawns.
When it comes to fitting three days food on a nine-inch plate, architectural vision is key. A solid base of potato wedges, a finger-sandwich house of cards, chocolate truffles adeptly balanced on the slopes of a black rice salad. It can be beautiful.
Buffets favour the guzzler. Once you’ve loaded up get those mozzarella sticks rammed down your throat double-time so you can get your arse back in line, still chewing, for seconds. They might even still be bringing stuff out if they’re lazy, disorganised scum.
There’s one slice of gluten-free carrot cake left and the coeliac behind’s been on about it all queue. What do you do? Take it. You’re not here to make friends. Now kick that old man’s cane out from under him and knock that child’s head in the blinis to claim the last chicken satay skewers.
Everyone gets turned away by self-appointed buffet bouncers eventually. Simply tail, blackjack and swap clothes with a member of serving staff and clear the buffet into the back of your waiting car. Buffet’s more important than your brother’s wedding anyway.