Cheese please

Beaten into submission from an avalanche of boys, bucca, and the Carling Academy Angel (they don't know any better..), we were really in desperate need of something comforting one Sunday. Who to call? Mama Nigella.

If Mama Nige had really come round she would have cleaned up the glass of sick by my bed, figured out why my modest polo shirt had been knotted into a belly top, and told Bob to stop spitting drinks in my face. As it was she bought my sleepy Chaz and Roast and the recipe for her, "back from the bar snack".

It goes like this: "Aaah.' *Gets up and stretches in white silk gown*. "It's 3 am, I need a snack to soak

up all those cocktails I supped last night. A sack of new potatoes, pack of bacon, whole pack of cheddar and frozen peas should do it. Cook , yawn, mush together and there you have it. All down my gown."

So we ate this whilst making her quadruple

chocolate loaf to take (mostly all of) to Marky's birthday BBQ.

We also watched 'He's just not that into you' and criticised Scarlett Johansson for being fat. She probably eats just as much bacon and cheese as us...

xxxx