Hugh's the man... HONEST
Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall... Yes, the bloke who smokes kippers in the chimney and helps to remove half of the wildlife numbers in Devon/ wherever it is he drags his quiet french wife to. I love him. I actually love him. And I havent got a fooking clue why. Is it his 'non-threatening' foppiness? His big city to countryside smallholder lifestyle change?
No. Possibly not.
The way he holds his sheep maybe? In that slightly too familiar way...
Yeah. She knows...
The way he looks into alternate sources to get rid of mice, humanely? By asking them to leave whilst shoving sage into every corner of the house. Whilst at the same time planning to kill a herd of whatever walks past the window.
Maybe that's it. The fact that if you were with Hugh; you'd be safe. Any man who can hand rear, mollycoddle and lead to the slaughter that many animals has to be made of sterner stuff.
If you were taking a evening stroll along Liverpool docks and someone tried to nick yer bag, he'd be on them like a mad butcher. He'd have them into link sausages and fine cuts before you could say, "I knew there was another reason you were wearing that apron"
"HA! You never suspected the bespectacled celebrity chef DID YOU LITTLE JIMMY?"
Yet despite all of this he, mostly, has the aura (sp?) of a yoghurt fancier. A yoghurt fancier missionary. Who plays in a church band. And likes people... And doesnt want to stab them up nice.
Hes a lunatic carnivore whom I love truly. And when he stripped in that PolyTunnel, I thought I would have a heartattack. Something about a man naked from the wellies up kills me.
Dont cross me. Ive got teh Hugh on my side...
No. Possibly not.
The way he holds his sheep maybe? In that slightly too familiar way...
Yeah. She knows...
The way he looks into alternate sources to get rid of mice, humanely? By asking them to leave whilst shoving sage into every corner of the house. Whilst at the same time planning to kill a herd of whatever walks past the window.
Maybe that's it. The fact that if you were with Hugh; you'd be safe. Any man who can hand rear, mollycoddle and lead to the slaughter that many animals has to be made of sterner stuff.
If you were taking a evening stroll along Liverpool docks and someone tried to nick yer bag, he'd be on them like a mad butcher. He'd have them into link sausages and fine cuts before you could say, "I knew there was another reason you were wearing that apron"
"HA! You never suspected the bespectacled celebrity chef DID YOU LITTLE JIMMY?"
Yet despite all of this he, mostly, has the aura (sp?) of a yoghurt fancier. A yoghurt fancier missionary. Who plays in a church band. And likes people... And doesnt want to stab them up nice.
Hes a lunatic carnivore whom I love truly. And when he stripped in that PolyTunnel, I thought I would have a heartattack. Something about a man naked from the wellies up kills me.
Dont cross me. Ive got teh Hugh on my side...