I can explain everything, I just choose not to.
Look, there's a very simple explanation for this. It's not what you think! I don't let him try to "cook" anymore. We both know it ends in misery.
I thought Jack might like to try eating a sandwich on actual bread instead of a croissant or a bagel or one of those dreadful American "grinder" rolls (the jokes, Angst Slash Hope, the terrible jokes). Apparently they don't have "sliced bread" in the 51st century. Jack says they'd say "It's the best thing since packaged moisture!"
And he hasn't exactly lived the most culturally integrated life since landing here.
So I made him a sandwich. IT WAS A GREAT SANDWICH. It had lettuce and tomato and hot English Mustard and cheddar and turkey on wholegrain bread. This sandwich was beautiful.
Then the Rift Alarm went off, and he shoved it in his pocket. In his pocket. But it was wrapped in plastic so I thought it was probably safe. Besides, it was in The Coat.
But what with one thing and another, between using the tomato to lure the Leenf out of the tree and then decorating it ceremonially with the lettuce and presenting it with a peace offering of cheese to its owners, to make sure they didn't vaporise Earth for daring to have trees its pet could hide in, the sandwich got a little damaged, okay? And when he sat down to eat it he just couldn't face that much "sliced bread". (It had nothing to do with the mustard, he quite enjoys hot mustard.)
I don't even like turkey!
So we fed it to the seagulls and I let him have his once-weekly hand-in-my-back-pocket moment. Well, he was wearing the coat and he did look pretty heroic rescuing the Leenf.
It's a strange life, being Property Of Torchwood, but at least it's never boring.
Purple shirt, red tie, what on earth was I thinking?
I thought Jack might like to try eating a sandwich on actual bread instead of a croissant or a bagel or one of those dreadful American "grinder" rolls (the jokes, Angst Slash Hope, the terrible jokes). Apparently they don't have "sliced bread" in the 51st century. Jack says they'd say "It's the best thing since packaged moisture!"
And he hasn't exactly lived the most culturally integrated life since landing here.
So I made him a sandwich. IT WAS A GREAT SANDWICH. It had lettuce and tomato and hot English Mustard and cheddar and turkey on wholegrain bread. This sandwich was beautiful.
Then the Rift Alarm went off, and he shoved it in his pocket. In his pocket. But it was wrapped in plastic so I thought it was probably safe. Besides, it was in The Coat.
But what with one thing and another, between using the tomato to lure the Leenf out of the tree and then decorating it ceremonially with the lettuce and presenting it with a peace offering of cheese to its owners, to make sure they didn't vaporise Earth for daring to have trees its pet could hide in, the sandwich got a little damaged, okay? And when he sat down to eat it he just couldn't face that much "sliced bread". (It had nothing to do with the mustard, he quite enjoys hot mustard.)
I don't even like turkey!
So we fed it to the seagulls and I let him have his once-weekly hand-in-my-back-pocket moment. Well, he was wearing the coat and he did look pretty heroic rescuing the Leenf.
It's a strange life, being Property Of Torchwood, but at least it's never boring.
Purple shirt, red tie, what on earth was I thinking?