PARTY food needn’t be uninspired fare like crisps and pizza. Make an effort to really impress your guests, even if they are slavering human dustbins who drink you dry then bitch about you behind your back. I’m talking about you, Fiona, you rancid cow.
Quail’s egg blinis
Ditch predictable smoked salmon and serve a hardboiled quail’s egg on beetroot pureed with cream cheese. It’s these little touches that make a gathering memorable, although not as memorable as the one when I walked in on Nathan saying ‘Colin? The only thing he fucks is the Christmas turkey’ and they all laughed. I’ll be making a special batch of party punch just for him. I’ll get next door’s dog to piss in a bottle.
Sausage rolls with a twist
What could be better than fresh flakey pastry and a quality cut of wild boar minced with redcurrant sauce? Although when Lucy had one she shrugged. Because she’s a fucking philistine who’d be happy with Greggs’ minced anus slurry pumped directly into her stomach with a hose.
A home kebab ‘van’
A small vertical rotisserie is very affordable if you’re fucking rich, so make a kebab cone with minced lamb and spices. Put out pittas, salad and sauces, and soon all your guests will be having an amazing time assembling their own kebabs.
Although Fiona’s got a fucking nerve showing up after that drunken one-night stand we had in 2015 when she gave everyone a ‘hilarious’ blow-by-blow account of my non-performance, as I later discovered. ‘Like trying sit on a dead worm’ was, I believe, one of her choice phrases. While taking no responsibility for it.
For a witty saunter down memory lane, serve 80s favourites like Space Raiders, Monster Munch and Twiglets from childhood. Mine was ruined by my ‘friend’ Gareth ruined by claiming I shat myself during a maths test.
Total lie, of course, but kids don’t care. That followed me around for years. I ought to smash your fucking face in Gareth and stick the Monster Munch up your arse.
Oh and a quick note to Jules. If you don’t like Twiglets, or indeed Marmite, it doesn’t make you interesting. It’s not a fascinating character trait like psychic powers. Shut the fuck up about it or PISS OFF.
Incredibly easy to cook – you just need to source some small buns – and very in right now. Yes, you can bet the twats I’ve invited will ignore the proper food and wank on excitedly about what is, literally, a burger… but SMALL! What a fucking mind-blowing concept! Einstein would have difficulty getting his head around it! God I hate people.
While compiling my party menu, I’ve started to question whether my friends truly merit the effort. So here’s the recipe I’ll be working from:
Go to Iceland
Buy a load of crap like chicken doughnuts, nacho cheese bites and 32 cocktails sausages for £2
Watch your guests stuff their gaping maws like pigs at a trough. In fact, why not serve it in a trough with a bucket of leftovers? The wankers will probably think it’s some trendy new dining experience. I’d laugh if humanity wasn’t so fucking depressing.