Celebrations/Roses
Ah, the cornerstone of every nutritious (festive) breakfast, to quote Jules from Pulp Fiction. Probably better for you than a Big Kahuna Burger at 9.3oam on Christmas morning after a feed of pints the night before, but not by much.
You get far less waste with the Celebrations than with the Roses, certainly since they replaced the pointless Galaxy Truffle with the Twix in 2011. That was a no brainer.
Roses, on the other hand, are a risky business. Get in there quick before all you’re left with are those disgusting Coffee Escapes.
Coffee is for drinking at stupid o’clock in the morning, not for eating. Never for eating.
Brussels sprouts
Credit: Scratchandsniff
Confession. This writer f***ing loves them in all their cabbagey glory, especially when they’re sexed up with little bits of chorizo. Far from chorizo we were reared, we know, but a Christmas dinner without Brussels sprouts is like an Ireland team with Jon Walters.
And we make no apologies for the foggy stench that invades the room afterwards. Get over it.
Smoked salmon
If you’re not having a smoked salmon starter, preferably wrapped around some cream cheese on a stick or on some brown bread, then you need to rethink your station in life.
Melon is for the weak.
The morning fry-up
Credit: Steven Depolo
For the moment you realise that you need some proper grub despite the handful of chocolate wrappers on the bedside locker. The morning fry-up is a staple. Sausages, rashers, scrambled eggs, white pudding, black pudding, a lamb cutlet if you’re going all out.
Washed down with tea, obviously. And a can of stout for the early starters.
Wensleydale with cranberries
Hot pudding and cold trifle in the same bowl
Credit: BBC
Yep, this is a thing, apparently. Just throw it all in there. Feck the food coma. The more cream the better. Anyone that uses custard need to go into the good sitting room and have a quiet word with themselves.
Custard is the devil.
The uneaten blue cheese
Sausage stuffing
Food of the gods themselves. From July onwards it’s pretty much all we can think about.
Cold turkey/ham sandwiches an hour after the dinner
“I’m never eating again. I’m f*cked. So stuffed. Jaysus. That’s me done… What have you got there? Is there stuffing in it? Ah feck it go on sure. Rude not to.”
After Eights
For when you absolutely can’t even fit an After Eight in your swollen belly.
Ferrero Rocher
Not in this house. It’s not 1987.
Chocolate Kimberleys
You won’t remember eating them, but there they’ll be, completely disappeared come St. Stephen’s Day. It’s the day after Christmas and all you’re left with are the Coffee Escapes, the heels of the bread, the blue cheese, the congealed dregs of trifle in the fridge, some cans of Carlsberg that nobody touched and a sense of complete and utter brokenness.
But at least Back To The Future is on in half an hour.
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