well that’s all well and good but where is he going to park the dang’ thing?

actually, on a serious note, they are surprisingly hard to master at the best of times…. particularly when attempting sudden and sharp turns and right angle bends with a light sleeper who when aroused… or just awoken with sharp focused nipply pain, will scream and cuss and threaten in dramatic tones that “so help me she’ll bring Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen from Hell to ‘bare’”

often when I find myself hiding near the hot water system under the house, I wonder if Gordon Ramsay swears and bullies his kitchen staff so hard because of those bronzed nipple clamps with the little chefs riding high.

Still… he’s certainly much more entertaining and his food appears to be much more appealing than the stodgy fare that Jamie whips up. For some reason he always seems keen on cooking fish which of course goes against my firm beliefs in ‘The Goatary’.

On reflection, perhaps the food is okay, perhaps it’s the ‘mockney’ carry-on that wears thin real quick. I had the chance to provide video coverage of one of his ‘live’ cooking tours across Australia many years ago… but I didn’t. This global mega-agency was producing the tour and they didn’t seem to have much of an idea and the key contact kept getting up and leaving the room to shout at imaginary things… in my professional opinon it had ‘tears written all ove rit’ so we passed. Turns out the tour was fab and went well, people made money, and the guy that did the production made his career out of it and now tours with Jamie and his jubbly bubbly team all over the world… bugger.

She who must be obeyed, worshiped, and stalked from afar (I think the AVO states 20m but it’s always hard to judge when skulking), really enjoys the bountiful Nigella Lawson.

She who must be appreciated tells me she specialises in ‘comfort food’. All I know is that she is very bosomy, a devestatingly (sometime I just enjoy free form spelling – if for no other reason to see a collection of letters brought together as startled and freshly minted housemates who together seem close to forming a correctly spelt word but yet awkwardly not) gorgeous brunette who artfully conceals her impossibly wide hips, is prone to sucking food off her fingers, winks knowingly to me through the camera and I can’t help but think how she could handle a pair of those little bronzed ‘Man-Rider’ nip-clips.

I’ve also learnt never to audibly express those same musings within the company of she who must be cared for fear of spending another couple of long hours in the musty darkness hoping and wishing that the strange brush-wired throbbing sensation next to my leg is from the old hot water tank and not from Pancake the mad crazed Possum who since losing her soulmate Waffle in an unfortunate episode involving a passing milk truck, a an air rifle, and a plate of melting ice cream – seems to have made it her critter critical mission mission to do all she and her many offspring, the Pikelets, can to f**k me up.

She who should be avoided early in the morning until coffee and ablutions tells me I’m paranoid… we’ll see come the great Possum Reckoning. No doubt Gordon will recommend a simple approach with salt for taste while Jamie will splash lashings of Olive Oil until everything matts up… while Nigella with her tasting finger and bedroom eyes will… suggest a creamy desert to finish with. I hate sitting in the dark rolling bronzed nip-clips in my hands, back against the hot water tank and ears pricked for any possible Possum movements.