You....monster!

*sigh*

Well, it was launched in 1935 in the UK as Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp (it didn’t become KitKat until 1937) and, from what I can see of the original wrappers (yes, they do still exist!) there’s no mention of anything other than wafer and chocolate so, presumably, the wafers were glued together with a thin layer of…

Darlings. One doesn’t make jelly shots (unless your name is Tiffani With An I and don’t expect much from life except an STI) with cider. Sorry, “hard cider” (you’re so quaint with your terms).

That shit from Nature’s Path looks like the stuff my cat takes a crap on. Nope. Nope and a thousand times nope.

Haw, you. I know you’re simple, but naw. In NZ and Australia (you know, the country the wankier Millennials claim doesn’t exist when they’re not chowing down on a detergent pod?) it’s known as Weet-Bix, but elsewhere on the planet they’re called Weetabix.

Puffins make excellent Buffalo wings.  Just saying.

Dump it all in a big bowl and tell the parents its the Wheel of Misfortune. And then instruct them to make sure the shit in the bowl won’t call little Tammy or little Wayne to explode or whatever. It is not your responsibility to make sure their brat’s kept safe.

“But previous generation parents were kind of psychotic.”

The Trench

I’m dreading any future involvement this vacuum of personality and charm has with the MCU, given his rather lacklustre debut as Eros at the end of Eternals (oh, sorry, spoiler alert).  

A strange omission.  After all, you’d think a fading hipster foodie would thrill himself to froth over the fact you can pick up individual portions of Parmigiano Reggiano.  Or Ascolana olives.  You don’t get that in the Mid-West.

I’ve fallen in love with this show over the course of the past few weeks. They seem to have struck paydirt with the format (new central tale per three episodes, but each arc is not wrapped up neatly but allowed to spill over into the next arc) and the cast is genuinely superb. It’s Star Wars, Chewie, but not as we…

Forgive him.  Clearly American and clearly clueless about how British politics works.

Well, the CaTrusstrafuck’s got form in fucking other men behind her husband’s back.  Remember she was exposed as having a torrid affair with Mark Field (another Tory MP for the Americans) between 2004 and 2005?  

Well, if they replaced full-fat Sprite with a sugar-free Sprite, you’d all be marginally healthier, wouldn’t you?  Silly Dennis.

Oh good, I’m getting lectured by a minion.  Off you pop.

*smack*

*snort*

Jar Jar: The Revenge