Living in a flatting situation, there are numerous unspoken and unseen fine lines that usually are not crossed, but after a few liver lubricators in the form of some dutch courage, some of these lines start to bend, some start to blur and some get hoovered straight up like you're on the back end of a Dyson. The unassuming flat freezer, the contents within, and who's the rightful owner of said contents is one of these imaginary lines that tend to get crossed, or should I say smashed through, like Jonah Lomu tramplin' the English circa 1995.
And if this isn't the case, it bloody well should be. Especially after 11 pm on a Saturday. That's right, in my seasoned opinion, the inner treats of ya dusty flat freezer are fair game after 11 pm on Saturday. So, let me proceed in woo-ing you over to the dark, but happily fed and watered side of eating ya flatties grub whilst sauced.
Come Saturday evening, you may find yourself melting into the furniture and resembling the human embodiment of the Windows 95 shutdown sound.
You've had a few cockies, you're feeling horsed, sauced and ready to fake some remorse. It's feed time!
There are multiple quick-fire reasons and points to make here to back up my hypotenuse and Pythagorean theory:
And lastly, I'll leave you with these words of wisdom... Similar to the saying... "nothing good happens after 3 am", "no tucker is being tucked into after 11 pm.. unless you're on the tins." So go forth hungry grog monsters, and tag me in your stories this weekend as you dive into some defrosted fine dining courtesy of Jessica's crumbed chicky fillets, yum yum.
