How else could I make turkey and avocado toast exciting? Give it a title that’ll make sure it’ll get stuck in your spam filter at work and possibly get you hauled in front of HR for inappropriate Internet usage.
In my first job that exact scenario happened. In my defence I had no idea that we weren’t allowed to use the Internet when it was quiet, and we certainly weren’t supposed to be on gay interest sites. Not porn, no, outintheuk.com – but even so, loading forum threads about fisting and how to change the taste of your man-milk probably wasn’t wise. Oops.
Anyway, no chit-chat tonight, please. This is a super quick breakfast and therefore, it’ll be a super-quick recipe.
It's quick, it's easy, it's simple, it's trendy (probably). All I know is that the youth are all over them avocado things and we're so 'with it' we had to go along. HASHTAG YOLO FELLOWKIDS
50g sourdough bread (6 syns)
half an avocado, mashed (7 syns)
squeeze of lime, pinch of salt
cooked turkey slices or fresh turkey
really? come on now
I'll give you a clue: you don't put the avocado inside you other than via your gob
although, everyone likes a moo-moo oozing green
use any bread you like - even your HeB if you want. We used sourdough because it's our favourite!
yes, avocados are 14 syns each but do you really think they're less healthy than an unlimited amount of Mullerlights? Do you? Syn it if you want. We don't, but have for the recipe
Now come on, how easy was that? Just admit it, you want to have yourself a slice of this, climb on a penny farthing and open a moustache shop, don’t you? When we were last in London we saw a shop selling penny farthings and frankly, I’ve never wanted to throw a firebomb more. I mean come on. There’s being a tit and there’s being an awful tit. A megatit. A Jordan.
Want more breakfast recipes to spill down your blurter? Of course.
Grilled steak gyros. On Slimming World, if you don’t mind. I love Greek food, whether it’s these gyros, dolmades or some hot bronzed DILF demanding he makes me his woman. I’ll cope, papi. Lift my dress up out of the dirt, though. I’m going to warn you for a second: the next paragraphs contain some graphic raunch references. Scroll straight to the pictures if you’re the type of person who clutches at her pearls when she
But first, indulge me for a moment, would you? I want to talk about men’s bodies. Now you might think I’m going for the obvious route of leering, given I spend 45% of my time with my neck canted at 75 degrees trying to grab a quick look at the package of those chavs who wear grey trackie bottoms. I swear, I’m like an owl when I walk past Sports Direct in the morning. An owl with a very pale face.
Lots (rightly) gets made about women and how they struggle with body confidence, but let’s hear it for the lads, eh? The amount of posts I see in our facebook group where men are down on their looks depresses the hell out of me.
I know there’s loads of pressure on women to look good – of course there is – but do you ever notice the male stereotype that always gets bandied around? Big arms, but not too big. No loose skin. No belly, and if there is a belly, it’s hidden behind a bar or a bench (look at every Slimming World magazine!). Strong jaw with white teeth and a perfectly preened beard. It’s all so…bland and safe and boring. But I see men chasing this false ideal body and it’s such a waste.
One thing I’ve learned since I stopped giving a toss about my body and well, showing it off in various places which I’m not talking about here, is that there’s a jar for every lid. Literally, in my case. Plenty of folks out there will like you for you – your ‘problem zone’ is someone else’s splash-patch. Belly cascading out in front of you like a balloon of mottled trex? That’s someone’s pillow, that is. Bingo wings? Somewhere to dab your knob off after sex.
Paul and I are creepy – we always smile nicely at big lads – well Paul smiles, I leer lasciviously and lick my lips at them like the Childcatcher. What can I say, I’m a sucker for men in Jacamo outlet shirts. We like to think that it makes a bloke happy to get some attention, though we pick our targets. We might dilate at the thought of a roadworker with a mean streak, a broken nose and gnarled rough hands, but I don’t like having to pick my teeth off the floor after a blowjob. No, we pick those men with dumpy wee bellies, office-haircuts and (sorry ladies) wives fussing about in the supermarket. We’re homowreckers.
What am I trying to say with all of this? Men, if you’re out there, don’t be hung up about your looks. No need to try and aspire to some muscle god – the best looking men are those who are confident in their bodies and who wear it well without giving a monkey’s jot what they look like. Confidence: 100% sexy. And here’s the thing – if you have a partner or a husband or even just a buddy who is down on his looks, take a moment to tell him how fabulous he is.
Oh, and give him our numbers. We’re as indiscriminate as amyl-scented nerve gas.
I know that’s a very pat solution to a complicated confidence issue but honestly. Men. Get over yourselves.
Have yourself a Shirley Valentine moment and just imagine some hairy, Greek studmuffin sliding this in front of you, and then sliding himself in to you. Yeah, you like that, don't you?
6 Tesco folded flatbreads (30 syns)
2 sirloin steaks
1 onion, sliced into 1cm thick rings
2 tbsp olive oil (12 syns)
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp dried oregano
½ tsp paprika
125g fat-free greek style yoghurt
1 green pepper, deseeded and cut into thin rings
12 cherry tomatoes, halved
4 small handfuls of rocket
in a large bowl, mix together the oil, garlic, oregano and paprika - pour one tbsp of the mix into a separate bowl with the yoghurt and mix well - that will make your sauce
add the onion and green pepper to the oil mix and toss, then gently remove with a slotted spoon
chuck in the steak and rub in as much of the marinade as is left
cook the steak to your liking, then remove from the pan and slice
add the onion and green pepper to the same pan and cook for a few minutes until starting to brown and caramelise
remove from the pan and finally add the flatbreads and cook for a minute or two each side, then remove from the pan
fold out the flatbreads and top each with a bit of rocket, then the steak slices, followed by the tomatoes and a drizzle of sauce
this makes six gyros - one is enough for one person if you're having something with it like chips! if it's for fewer than six people just use one flatbread for each person and stuff more filling in - we won't tell
if the syn values of those flatbreads are giving you the willies you could use pitta breads instead if you really wanted to, or even a wrap if you're pious
we actually forgot to sear our flatbreads in the pan - you shouldn't, it makes them taste nicer!
Let’s not delay. Taster night is looming large and you need something quick to put together but classy enough to make it look as though you care what the Witch’s Council thinks of you. This is smashing, actually – get everything cut to the same size and you’re halfway there.
In the interests of keeping things super quick and easy, here’s the recipe!
Mixed bean salad. It isn't sexy, it isn't going to blow your socks off and christ, they aren't going to be talking about it for years to come. But sometimes you need a simple salad of undigestable beans to get those scales moving!
tin of butter beans
tin of kidney beans
tin of black eyed beans
small tin of sweetcorn
one cucumber - take the seeds out with a spoon and chop
one large red pepper - deseeded, chopped fine
one large onion - chopped fine
one pinch of dill, salt, pepper
one tablespoon of olive oil (6 syns)
juice of a lemon
do you want to hazard a guess, Sherlock?
chop everything up the same size, rinse your beans (dirty bugger), add everything into a giant bowl, stir
this is perfect for sitting in the fridge for a couple of days or taking to a taster night
Here for the pizza bianca but upset by the lack of Rickaaaay jokes? Understandable.
Now, we’ve been stuck for things to write about lately so we thought we’d throw the blog open to some random questions. Our readers came up with…well, see below. Paul is going to be answering for a change – try not to split your bean from buttering it so much.
National Express or MEGABUS?
Coaches are universally crap – you cannot have a good experience on one. That’s a fact. Saying that, I had the best nights’ sleep I’ve ever had on a Megabus from Portsmouth to Newcastle when I was canoodling with James, so that’d be the winner (plus can’t really get vexed for a quid, can you?). He ruined it a bit when he shot his bolt over the back of the seat into the darkness (half-empty bus, it was fine) – what can I say, we were in love at the time.
Are you the giver or the taker?
Giver! But only because of laziness. I can’t be arsed with all the prep that goes into being the garage. Plus, I’ve wrecked my arse with years of Dulcolax abuse trying to chase that Slimmer of the Week basket of fermenting fruit. James is both and it’s to his eternal chagrin that the tunnel never opens.
Have either of you ever been with a woman?
Nah. It has literally never, ever crossed my mind to even consider it. James often says he has but I’m not too sure, he recoils at bras in Asda but that could be down to bad memories from his sports bra at school.
Top 5 celebrities you would invite to your dinner party (dead or alive – *doesn’t have to include Pete burns 😂*)
Jeremy Corbyn – a genuinely decent bloke, plus I reckon he’s got some right filthy stories about Diane Abbott
Michael Barrymore – pre-current miserable state, though. Only if he was peppy/coked-up like in the Strike it Lucky days. I’d definitely be a top, middle AND a bottom in that situation.
Bianca Del Rio – for sheer hilarity
Debbie McGee – she’s genuinely a dead funny, dippy person in real life and a right scream – and we could get to the bottom of those dog rumours
Tracy Chapman – my favourite singer. She can sing us a lovely tune at the end when we’re all pissed up.
SERIOUS INTERJECTION FROM JAMES:
TRACY CHAPMAN IS NOT A GOOD SINGER. I’D RATHER LISTEN TO AN AUTO-TUNED FANNY-FART THAN THAT WHINGEING BAG.
Favourite sexual position?
Whatever means I don’t get a sore back or muscle cramp and takes the least amount of effort.
Would you rather penis sized nipples or nipple sized penis
What kind of bloody question is this?!?!
Do you ever feel like jacking this page in ?
Nah! Sometimes you do think that life would be easier without having to deal with people arguing over nowt in the group but honestly, we have so much fun with it I couldn’t imagine life without it. Plus the blog pays for James’ cigars, booze and expensive jacket collection. I make do with a crust of bread and a glass of water for dipping.
Would you like to have kids and be daddies?
Nah. I love kids and they love me and I like looking after them for short periods, but once they start screaming/crying/whinging/shitting then the fun ends and you can have them straight back, thank-you-very-much. We’re both altogether too selfish for kids. A disposable income warms your heart and gives you more love than a snotty ball of grass-stained kids ever could. Sorry not sorry. James is terrible with babies anyway – he handles them like you might handle a pan full of hot oil as someone reversed a car at you.
Someone suggested we do a swirl (saw it on Modern Family) where we both yankee-doodle into a cup and then neither of us would know who the dad is. Which is a nonsense, because if he grew up to be a barely literate socially awkward raging homo, he’d be my child. If he grew up to be a barely literate socially awkward raging homo with a sassy mouth, he’d be James’. Either way, he’d be doomed to a life of cry-wanks and endless health anxiety.
What’s the most outrageous fetish either of you have ever tried?
As a young ‘un I was having a ‘fling’ with an older man that’d satisfy my cider and Golden Virginia needs. Out of the blue he asked me to fart on him and pulled out a tin of Aldi beans. It was so surreal. Did absolutely nothing for me at all except made me gip, but I got money out of it sooooooo.
Whereas James pooed on someone for £200. OR DID HE *WAVY MYSTERIOUS LINES*
Any near death experiences?
I accidentally cut through the cable of a hedge trimmer when I was about 13 (sorry dad) when I was pissing about with it. Called 999 because I panicked so much and got a telling off for it because I wasn’t actually dying or in any danger. Other than that – nah.
James – I nearly drowned twice on holiday. Once I’ve documented in here where my mum and dad gave us a ropey pedalo, put us in a river in a deep gorge and sent us on our merry way, where we promptly capsized and were rescued by two German tourists as my parents lounged on the beach in a fug of Lambert and Butler smoke. Second time – and you’ll spot a theme – we were on a giant loch in Scotland. Other kids had nice canoes or fun toys, we had an bright yellow inflatable boat my dad had found on the beach. Never did work out what the PAN-AM 103 on the side meant. Anyway my sister and I paddled merrily out in the middle of this loch only to find the reason the boat had been left was because of a slow leak. We set about drowning and were only saved by another family who dashed in to pull us ashore.
Not all bad though. My parents were so relieved and wracked with guilt that they let us play with the bleach under the sink for the rest of the night. Good times were had by all.
That’ll do it for the Q&A for now. James’ turn next. We’ve got a friggin’ no regrets pizza to post – remember, our no regrets series is food that is high in syns but bloody worth it.
Pizza bianca - it's topped with ginger and when you shut it in the oven, it screams because the silver puffa jacket catches ahad. You can reduce the syns of course by changing up the topping but really, it's the dough that is the star of the show here. Enjoy!
Each 10" pizza is 45 syns, but worth every bite!
for the dough
250g plain flour (40 syns)
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, divided (12 syns)
180ml lukewarm water
1 tsp dried active yeast
1½ tsp salt
for the pizza
225g grated mozzarella (38½ syns)
180g ricotta (2x HeA)
1 clove garlic minced
pinch red pepper flakes
¼ teaspoon salt
fresh basil leaves
60g grated parmesan (2x HeA)
pour the water into your mixing bowl and sprinkle over the yeast - give it a few minutes until it's dissolved
mix in the flour and salt until you get floury, shaggy dough - or do what we did and chuck it all in a stand mixer with a kneading hook
knead for a good five minutes by slapping it out and pushing it with the ball of your hand - come on, you've seen sleb chefs do this, you know how it is
chuck back into the bowl, drizzle over 1 tbsp of the olive oil and cover with cling film and leave it for an hour or so in a warm place until it's risen
slap the dough out divide into two balls (or keep as one if you want one enormous pizza)
stretch or roll into pizzas as thick or as thin as you like
preheat the oven to as hot as it'll go (no joke)
sprinkle over the mozzarella over the pizza bases,
mix together the ricotta, chilli flakes and garlic and dollop onto the pizzas
spread out the basil leaves and sprinkle with the parmesan
slide onto a baking sheet and bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes until golden and bubbling
Wanting a pizza the action (sorry) but worried your consultant will punch you on the boob if you eat something like this? Well ignore that feeling of doubt, you’re better than that. But if you must compromise, we have some great pizza recipes!
You know what it’s like, taster night rolls around and you get the usual eighty seven texts gently reminding you to bring something along. The dilemma is clear: do you nip over to the Co-op and get a bunch of grapes, do you make something super fancy knowing it’ll be ignored whilst everyone paws over the Weetabix and cat-litter cakes, or do you do as we always do and pretend you’re working / on holiday / on the game / in hospital getting your worn-out knees replaced? I know, but I can’t stand watching other people eat or other people judging me on my choices.
I’ve touched upon the fact I hate witnessing buffets at the best of times, but it reminded me of one sight I saw in Disney a few years ago. I say Disney, we were actually in a Sizzlers at the time, which for those not familiar with Sizzlers simply imagine a Little Chef stocked entirely with what they found behind the bins at Lidl. I’ve never known shigella (hi Paul!) be given as a topping choice on a salad before. Anyway, we were sat visibly blanching at the amount of flies on our breakfast when this absolute unit of a bloke stood up / was helped up. He rolled towards the buffet, loaded his plate to the point where he’d have struggled to get a sprig of cress on top, and then made to slow-shuffle back to his station. We were transfixed – by this time in our honeymoon we had exhausted all conversations and the realisation of spending eternity together was lying heavy in our thoughts so a distraction was welcome – and we watched as he conveyed his food pile back as though it was a newborn baby.
Then: a loud crack, a rumbling noise, a plaintive cry and the splatter of food hitting the deck. He’d loaded his plate so full and so high that it had snapped like the strut of an Italian motorway bridge. I’m sure it was months of sub-standard dishwashing that weakened the plate but the poor bastard looked utterly bereft, with a whole restuarant of folks immediately judging him. Which was rich, given they had one collective set of teeth between them, but nevertheless. I always remember his wee crumpled face – he looked like Dr Robotnik when you defeat him at the end of Sonic 2.
Oh and it’s Robotnik, not Eggman, you can fuck off with that nonsense.
I believe he was given a voucher for a free meal, and he won my respect for not picking the best of the dropped meal off the floor and eating it, which is what I would have done in our house. The three-second rule has been extended to three days here: I ate a wine gum the other day that I’m not entirely sure the cat didn’t bring in from outside on the back of her tail. Ah well.
Want more American nonsense? We put all of our honeymoon stories in a book, you know, and it’s as cheap as I am in my Primark knickers. You can download it here!
Anyway, that was a sidetrack and a half, wasn’t it? But that’s our blog all over – side-tracks and cheap ugly shoes. Let’s do the melon basket.
I've got a bloody nerve calling this a recipe, haven't I? But listen, we're all about taking things easy here at Chubby Towers, and this is ridiculously easy to make but it looks damn good! Plus all the extra fruit can be turned into smoothies which of course you'll syn, rather than enjoying like a normal person. Right? Hello?
one large watermelon
one big pack of raspberries
one big pack of strawberries
one big big girl in a big big world (it's not a big big thing if you leave me)
one pack of pomegranate seeds
Of course, you can use any fruit you like in here. Soft, hard, Barrymore.
the trickiest bit is cutting the watermelon - cut a small disc off the bottom so it lies flat
then cut two 'almost' quarters from the top, leaving a strip down the middle - then cut through that so you make a handle
it's hard to explain but come on, look at the pictures and work it out - this isn't The Crystal Maze love, you have all the time in the world to figure it out - but you want to make sure you leave a thick enough handle to support the weight of the fruit
use a melon baller to scoop some melon balls out of the flesh you've cut away
scrape out the melon so you have a pleasing bowl
slice up the rest of the fruit into a bowl, add the melon balls, chopped mint and the juice of a lemon
tumble it gently to mix it up, then tip it into your basket and serve
I’ve tried so hard to make this soup look faintly attractive in the photos, but I can’t. It’s green slop, but it’s so tasty – pea and ham thick soup that looks like something from the sink trap. Anyway, it’ll do the job for days when you want something quick and easy to satisfy your hole and the postman has already been. I say that with an air of familiarity – our postman is delicious. I know it doesn’t do to judge people on looks but goodness me, he has legs I could spin around on and a face that just screams ‘I’ll apologise after’. Here’s me looking forlornly out of the window once he’s passed by.
If you’re a fan of sporadic updates, non-food related shenanigans and overly-saturated photos of bear cubs so past their prime we should be dancing on a rescue advert somewhere, then why not join us on Instagram?
This syn free pea and ham thick soup - there's no way of making it sound attractive - comes straight from Jamie Oliver himself. I know he's divisive but I have a lot of time for him - anyone who can make decent food through such a heavy mist of spittle is a winner in my books. This soup is so easy to make - chuck it in a blender, throw it in a pan, spin it out the window, dance like no-one's watching. Keeps well in the fridge.
1 bunch of spring onions
350g frozen peas
300g frozen chopped spinach
big handful of fresh mint
300g dried pasta, any old shite will do
50g feta cheese (use your HEA)
1600ml of chicken stock
chop the spring onions
throw the peas, mint, spring onion, ham, frozen spinach and 400ml of chicken stock in a blender and blend the buggery out of it - add a pinch of salt and pepper
pour into a pan and add 1200ml of chicken stock
smash up your pasta - hit it with a rolling pin - and tip it in - let everything bubble for about twenty minutes until the pasta is cooked
serve with the feta crumbled in
lots of black pepper and salt, natch
this recipe came from Jamie's book all about his family and their expensive house and wholewheat pasta and Cath Kidson tableware. If you fancy replicating the experience with your B&M saucepans and Charles and Diana pinny, you can order his book from here
actually fair play to him, it's a great book - tonnes of recipes easily adapted for SW
it won't surprise you but we have a fancy blender that could blend anything, you can get one, or just use a stick blender - you don't need to spend lots of money to do our recipe!
we let ours bubble away for a good two hours (accidentally, I fell asleep watching Murder She Wrote) and it was lovely and thick - don't be frightened to cook it for longer!
Fancy, right? Want some more soup that you could smash your face in? Of course, we’ve got loads that are syn free!
I’ve been inspired to post the recipe for these custard cream blondies because I’m sick to my back teeth of seeing cakes that look like someone’s foot in stage 3 of active decay. Why would you eat that? Goodness me. A little bit of what you fancy does you good and whilst yeah, these cost a load of syns, sometimes you need to actually live your life instead of chasing stickers in a book. Plus, CHRIST ALMIGHTY, they’re delicious. So, in an unusual bit of brevity, let’s get straight to the recipe!
Why a blondie and not a brownie? BECAUSE YOU'RE A SICKENING RACIST. No, blondies tend to have more vanilla, brownies usually have chocolate in them. So just calm yer tits, Tommeh Robinson.
I found this recipe on reddit via a blog called krishthebaker - have a look on their website, but put a towel down. You'll be snail-trailing around the biscuits. I've seen it before in the BBC Good Food magazine too, but frankly, I'm not saying thanks to them because I'm sick of getting TV licence letters despite being a good boy all paid up.
The biscuits then, if you please.
250g melted butter (90 syns)
400g light soft brown sugar (80 syns)
4 x eggs
3 tsp vanilla extract
80g caster sugar (16 syns)
500g plain flour (90 syns)
100g custard powder (18 syns)
1 ½ tsp baking powder
1 ½ tsp bicarb
15 custard creams (crushed, like your consultant's dreams of buying a caravan on tick) (45 syns)
4 tbsp of milk (0.5 syn, best to be accurate)
I make that 340 syns, give or take a crumb. So 17 syns a brownie. OOPS.
turn that oven to 180 degrees
mix the butter and sugars until combined
add the eggs and vanilla and beat it to buggery
add the flour, custard powder, baking powder and bicarb - stir and mix - if it's looking a little dry, just add some milk
pour into a 13 by 9 inch brownie tin - greased, use a bit of butter, not like you're dieting
smooth the top with an offset spatula if you're classy, or use a butter knife if you still say Tescos instead of Tesco
scatter the crushed custard creams over the top and into your gob too
bake for about 25 to 30 minutes, if they're burning on top put some parchment over the top
allow to cool in the fridge, then cut up - I got twenty squidgy squares
serve to rapturous applause and congratulations
if you want a crispy edge on everything you do, then why not buy one of these brownie tins? Imagine your delight as each brownie is perfectly cooked and our delight as that sweet Amazon Associate money comes rolling in
Rhubarb and ice-cream, if you don’t mind. But first, we have a competition to announce, but you’re going to have to be QUICK.
Too blurry for you? Judgemental cow. We want recipes! But – and this is important – you must provide two high-quality photos like the ones we use in the blog. Have a scroll through our blog and you can see what I mean. I don’t want a pile of cat-sick served on your best Matalan Le Gusset plates, I don’t want photos of your crotchfruit in the background and if it looks like something that might adorn a tablecloth in a church hall and be pawed at by women with more hair on their knuckles than I have on my arse-cheeks, that’ll also be a no. Aim for food that would be served with love, not endured with reservations.
A few simple guidelines:
we don’t use Frylight or Quark, because we’re not insane and/or sponsored by Frylight – you can, but we will adapt your recipe accordingly;
please don’t be afraid to use your syns – we will always favour proper food over ‘let’s race to zero syns’ nonsense;
please have a cursory glance through our recipe page to see if we’ve already done it – you can find it here
please don’t fret if you’re not a strong writer – that’s my job, I’ll tart you up!
Every published recipe gets a new entry. And let’s be honest, you love an easy entry!
We also want stories! You know how we write about 600 words before each recipe? Let’s hear your side of things. Everyone has a story and if there’s one thing I’ve learned since moderating a group consisting mainly of women, aged 30-49, medium prolapse (thank you facebook stats), is that you love to gab. So do it! If you’ve got something important to say, this is your chance. Write it under a false name. Send it to me in crayon, I don’t care. One thing though: as mentioned above, please don’t feel as though you need to be crass to be funny. It takes a certain lack of wit to force as many gay sex puns into a story as I do, trust me, and you’re better than that.
Submit your entries by emailing email@example.com – if you’re successful, and mind our bar for entries is low – you’ll be entered into a draw to win a box with £75 of stuff in it. It’ll be good stuff – nonsense, but good. The runner up prize will be £25 worth of something good from Amazon. Though let’s be honest, the main prize is the sheer thrill of knowing you’re making the world a better place.
Now, to sweeten the deal, here’s an incredibly easy dessert idea. It’s nothing flash, but nor are you, and we still love you.
Listen, are we even going to call this a recipe? Yes! Rhubarb and ice-cream with ginger nuts! People always want new ideas and this couldn't be simpler, and I like it because it's an interesting mix of textures, heat and tastes.
500g of rhubarb (2 syns when cooked, if you choose to syn it, which we don't)
400ml of Halo Top vanilla (12 syns)
4 ginger nuts (10 syns)
Split between four very large portions, this comes out at 5.5 syns, which is nothing for a good dessert!
chop up your rhubarb, cook it with a tiny splash of water over a low heat until it has stewed - I like it sour, but feel free to put a few drops of honey in there (but don't forget you've got ice-cream going on top)
plate it up - hot rhubarb, cold ice-cream, crushed ginger nuts
we don't syn cooked fruit, because it's nonsense, but if you're following Slimming World to the point where you're worried Mags will scratch your car for not following the rules, syn your rhubarb at 0.5 syns for your portion
Nacho chicken wraps will follow, but first an apology….ah balls to it, listen, we’re not going to apologise for not posting too often, because we always do it and then have to go away somewhere or get caught up in doing stuff and then we forget! But if Jurassic Park has taught us anything, it’s that Life Finds A Way and Bryce Dallas Howard might have a silly name, but she’s terrifically pretty.
Speaking of pretty, can I introduce you to my favourite ever photo of me?
I have the air of a seventies DJ that permanently has their hard-drive in the microwave ready to go at a moment’s notice.
I wish I could tell you that our nights have been so full of debauchery and sin that we haven’t had time for the blog, and whilst that’s partly true, the actual reason is so much more boring. We’ve been stuffing envelopes. Lots and lots and lots of envelopes. See after the success of the badges and our impending holiday which we really ought to pay for, we decided to branch out into fridge magnets – because what would put you off eating more than our faces floating into your vision whenever you fancied a Muller-Shite? So I set about designing some tasteful numbers…
We thought we’d maybe sell 50 or so. We sold over 750. Which is fine, until you realise that you now need to package up 750 magnets, write out the envelopes and get them in the post. That took time, but naturally we decided to make it harder for ourselves by writing sauce on the envelopes. When the first lot landed with our lovely customers, everyone else wanted rudeness and filth on their flaps, and so…it snowballed. You’ve never lived until you’ve sat at 2am trying to think of a joke about a name like Mildred or drawing the eight-hundredth cock and balls of the day. One morning Paul found me face-down on a bed of padded envelopes with a roll of stamps pressed against my face. I still see Elizabeth’s rack when I shut my eyes.
Of course, with us at the wheel, this road-trip through Royal Mail based sauciness was always going to end in disaster. For one, we’ve had a couple of instances where the postman has scribbled out the ‘rude’ bits or put a big stamp over the cock and balls we’ve delicately drawn on the back. That’s fair enough, I suppose, though I imagine you’d need to be fairly joyless to take offence at ‘peel the flaps apart for instant pleasure‘ scrawled on the seal of the envelope. One such censorship annoyed me so much that we dispatched a second envelope to the customer with a giant, detailed knob drawn on the back – but I stuck cat ears on the top. Didn’t get through untampered with. Ho-hum.
But no, that’s not the worst that’s happened. We’ve been affixing random titles and names to people’s names – Right Dishonourable Jane Doe, Marge “Gammon Flaps” Simpson, Sarah “Unprotected Anal, Finish on the Tits” Jones, that sort of thing. Good clean fun. Anyway, things came to a head when we received a message from someone we had posted a badge to a lovely lady who we designated, entirely randomly I hasten to add, as Number One Arm-Wrestler.
Naturally, she only has one bloody arm. We didn’t know, and thank Christ she’s absolutely fine about it and a good sport and found it hilarious, but I can’t help but feel aghast by how badly it could have ended. Plastered all over the Sun, ‘CRUEL AND CALLOUS CUBS LEFT ME STUMPED’, for example. Thankfully, she knew our joke was ‘armless. Rinse and repeat. We’ve had to add an opt-out if you want a clean envelope button onto the page, though. Phew. Anyway, if you want a magnet, we’ve only got a few left! Make sure you mark the order if you don’t want filth. Otherwise it’ll come addressed to you with knobs drawn all over them, or, if you’re male, references to the size of your genitals with some soft focus shots of us inside. If that doesn’t tempt you, what could?
Now don’t worry, I’m not going to endlessly promote our magnets on here. That’ll be it until we need to pay for a new sling or something. It does give me a giddy thrill to imagine a magnet being slipped into a Slimmer of the Week basket and poor Sandra choking on her cat hair quiche, mind. Shall we do the crunchy nacho chicken wraps? Well why not. Buckle up, Buckaroo, because I’m going in dry.
The beauty with this recipe is that it's what we're affectionally calling a dump bag - you throw the raw ingredients into a freezer bag, pop it in the freezer and then, whenever you can't be arsed to cook, take it out and throw it in the slow cooker. It'll cook nicely through the day and be ready when you come back - and so easy to make! Then just stick it in a wrap with a few extra bits and you're done. The chicken also works well with rice!
This makes enough for eight wraps very easily indeed.
four chicken breasts
1 small tin of sweetcorn
1 small tin of black beans
the juice of two limes
one large red onion chopped
pinch of salt and pepper
two minced garlic cloves
200ml of chicken stock
To make the wraps:
a pack of white Weight Watchers wraps, which are a HEB each - or you know, find some joy in your life and have a good wholemeal wrap like us instead, and don't syn it because haway
25g of Doritos, crushed up into little wee chips (7.5 syns) (split between eight, just under a syn)
why not use your HEA on cheese? 30g of cheddar grated is your HEA, add that for extra cheesy sexiness
pop everything for the chicken filling in a bag and freeze it until the night before you're ready to cook
throw it in a slow cooker for a few hours
give everything a right good mix and use two forks to pull the chicken apart - it'll just fall to bits, it's great
to make the wrap, throw some chopped lettuce into a wrap, top with chicken, Doritos and cheese, wrap it up and away you go, get it in you OR, if you're sassy, grill the wraps so everything melts together inside - oh my yes
Slimming World chimichurri! Now admittedly chimichurri sounds like something a posh woman would call her fadge when telling the doctor it’s sealed over, but bear with us – it’s actually a gorgeous herby sauce where, if you use good fresh herbs, it’ll be an absolute delight. You’ll wonder why you haven’t had it before but we all know the answer to that is simple: like you’d ever turn down a cream sauce for your steak. Even so, give this a go.
There’s no time to lose today because we’ve had an actual House Calamity. You will have doubtless noticed that it’s been hotter than the devil’s dick outside until Friday, when the skies broke just in time to make sure that 1,000,000 people who still live at home with their mothers were denied the chance to look at the moon. It tipped it down, and naturally, our house decided to throw a spanner in our plans to save up for Canada and instead, sprung yet another leak. We’ve now got more brown damp patches on our ceiling than we ever manage on our mattress, but that’s what being married for eleven years will do for you.
This means yet more visits from roofers, more awkward small-talk and yet more waiting around for them to appear from ‘just around the corner, mate’, where presumably that corner is somewhere south of Doncaster. I’ve long since given up on people saying they’ll turn up at any given point – I swear we’ve still got someone due round to clean my little C2 (not a euphemism) and that was turned into a cube back in 2012.
So, you can have a recipe, and we’ll get on with fussing about our ceiling. Sigh. Chimichurri sauce for you!
Sounds fancy, eh? Chimichurri comes all the way from them Argies and is a tasty sauce for fresh meat! It's as easy as you after a night at the bingo and tastes phenomenal! It's a cool colour too, so the kids will love it.
The beauty with this is that you can have it with whatever you want! We had ours with chips because we're common and it's our default position. We had some left over the next day and slipped it into sandwiches and it was just as good! Sex up your meaty flaps tonight.
4 good steaks
2 big bunches of basil
2 big bunches of parsley
2 big bunches of mint
2 big bunches of chives
4 green chillis
2 tsp capers
1 tbsp olive oil (6 syns)
firstly, take the steak out of the fridge and bring it up to room temperature
next, finely chop all of the herbs, chillis and capers - if you can't be arsed, do what we did and chuck it all in a food processor
zest and juice the limes and add the olive oil, and mix well
sprinkle a little salt and pepper over the steaks and cook to your liking
as the meat is cooking, dollop the chimichurri sauce onto a chopping board and gently spread out into a large square big enough for the steaks to sit on
when the steak is cooked, place on top of the chimichurri and leave to rest for a few minutes
slice the steak and use a knife to spread the chimichurri sauce all over it - like it's getting a facial
remember: this recipe is for four - if you're only making it for two people just halve everything