ON these cold nights, I can think of nothing better than roast poussin followed by a comforting damson tart.

Well, I can. A good hard fuck. There hasn’t been much of that round here lately. I may as well chop off my useless, redundant penis.

I’d use one of my own-brand kitchen knives ‘in association’ with Waitrose. Buy one. The royalties are great if you don’t mind spreading your arse cheeks like that whore Jamie Oliver.

Anyway I digress. Here’s my recipe for all you Sunday supplement cooks who think you’re Anthony Bourdain if you manage to shit out a bowl of pasta without opening the Dolmio.

First, get your butcher to source the poussins. You’ll need one bird for each guest, although mine often cancel at the last moment. ‘You can be quite intense, Colin’ they say. Fuck off. If they don’t show up I draw a face on each chicken and pretend they’re my fair-weather friends being agonisingly roasted to death. It’s weird, I know, but strangely satisfying.

Then I eat them on my own like an animal, sitting in my underpants, grease dripping onto my t-shirt, sickened by my own gluttony.

So, preheat the oven to gas mark 7 – this will ensure a perfect crispy skin for each poussin. It’s a very versatile dish, ideal for a quick supper, a dinner party, or even, dare I say it, an intimate tete-a-tete with someone you want to impress.

Like my ‘friend’ Suzanne. I thought there was a slim chance of fucking her, but she didn’t turn up either. Her poussin got an unconventional approach to stuffing when it came out of the oven, I can tell you. Wish I’d let it cool down a bit.

But enough of my romantic musings and onto our wonderful damson tart. You’ll need 500g of damsons, a vanilla pod… actually, fuck it. Life is just an endless hamster wheel of disappointment and a fucking cake isn’t going help that.

Even with a thick, luxuriant vanilla custard.

So here’s a quicker recipe for poussin and damson tart, without the poussin or damson tart. You will need:

60 Superkings

A 1.5 litre bottle of the cheapest Vladivar vodka (they may not have these at your local farmers’ market, try a grimy corner shop instead)

Cooking instructions are as follows. Drink the vodka and smoke the fags. You’ll feel much better, or at least unconscious. It just goes to show it needn’t be difficult to throw together a wonderful, nutritious meal to see you through another chilly February night!

Next week: How to make a hearty bean and chorizo casserole as a spring pick-me-up after an incredibly depressing visit to a prostitute.