Thursday, December 3, 2009

The Scales Of Injustice


All this week, I am on Salmon Duty.


Son of Whirl is off cheese and ham at the moment, so his school packouts are having to be made up from the only other item on his list: salmon. And since we neither live near a leaping brook, nor include amongst our sticks of furniture a fully functional salmonery, it’s down to the stalwart hunter-gatherer-checkout girls of Tesco to provide us with huge tins of the stuff, caught by none other than Mr John West (or on occasion, Tess Cowzone) — and down to me to peel the soggy grey mush of dead flesh from said tinned salmon’s pondwater-soaked bodies at six in the morning.

Clearly, fate passed me over when it came to having both eyes sucked out by a trio of Mr Universes and a suped-up vacuum cleaner.

Maybe I’ll get luckier next time when I come back as a Yorkshire Terrier...

9 comments:

Bernita said...

"the soggy grey mush of dead flesh" - and the vertebrae. Of a grossness. I sympathize and shudder.

Whirlochre said...

I pity the alien race, forced by dint of anatomical peculiarity to cast away the fish and snort the vertebrae for sustenance.

fairyhedgehog said...

You don't have a salmonery in your living room? For shame!

Whirlochre said...

Hey! We used to have two. But I broke the glass on the first while revving up the scaremammoth. And when I broke that too, the other one got sat on.

stacy said...

Now I'm picturing you in Tesco in a loincloth, while the checkout girls are in saris with huge carafes of water on their heads. Thanks for the imagery, man.

Whirlochre said...

Last time I went shopping in my loincloth, I accidentally gave myself a Brazilian trying to prise free my credit card.

Robin S. said...

Ewwww. Salmon at six a.m.

Smelly.

Have you reminded Son of Whirl how damn lucky he is?

McKoala said...

When I was at primary I went through a loooong phase of salmon paste sandwiches, of all the disgusting things. Much easier to make than the tinned stuff, though. Try it on SOW. I liked a bit of Heinz Salad cream for a bit of zing. A connoisseur me.

Whirlochre said...

Robin
Every morning, during our Daddy Sits On S-o-W's Head session.

McKoala
Oh heavens, yes — paste sandwiches. On floppy "erectile dysfunction" Mothers Pride white sliced bread. salmon was definitely the worst. So posh sounding — yet so so crap.