PROBABLY CRAZY

CLIVE NIBBS. . .idea for new gameshow!!

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 15:45:46 +0100

Gameshow Narrator: "Please welcome your host for tonight. . .Clive N-N-Nibbs!"

Clive Nibbs: "Good evening Ladies and Mental-Men!"

Sorry readers, I'm getting carried away again, just ignore my madness, eventually my wacky personality won't come as a surprise to you, just ask my brother Ian! For flips sake he has to live in the same house as me!!

Anyway let's cut the crap (excuse my french...ooh bonjour madman!) Arghh sorry I'm at it again, "bzzz Planet Earth to Clive, do you read me!!" I HAVE AN IDEA FOR A NEW COOKERY GAMESHOW!

Just imagine a formula similar to many cookery shows whereby contestants bring in common ingredients found in the home, and then seek the culinary skills of a professional celebrity chef as to what to do with such a mixed bag of everyday items. Here's the different bit...bzzz Come in Clive Nibbs, we read you! These contestants bring in genuine items found in the fridge on a desperate Tuesday night! So, the top chefs must create an interesting and nutritious dish with, for example, the following things out of my own fridge:
*2 old brown button mushrooms lying in strange opaque water and stuck to the blue plastic box
*Christmas Chutney
*Wafer thin ham slices, again floating in a watery residue
*Half a soft onion, dripping with grey water

I have to stop here I'm afraid readers, I think my refrigerator is on the blink, everything seems to be defrosting and being dripped on by cloudy water

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CLIVE NIBBS is. . .PROBABLY CRAZY

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:28:51 +0100

Welcome all to my lair of wild tales!

Quite recently I was telling a guy one of my interesting stories when, upon finishing my account, they looked up from their newspaper and told me: "that was really fascinating mate, you should really write that up so I can read it again". Call me mad as a balloon but I took that advice and lo and behold here I am. On-line. On form. And on fire. Wild and free. To quote a lyric by rock legends The Who: "I'm free...free from the chains of reality".

My stories are exciting; fast paced; shocking; alarming and dangerous, if you can't take the heat don't read 'em cuz they're on fire with the heat of uncontrolled passionate exuberant debauched living!

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The Notorious Noodle Incident

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:01:36 +0100

It happened on an average and altogether ordinary winter’s night. There was no sense of foreboding doom hanging in the air or omens of forthcoming misfortune - perhaps accounting for why it really shocks and distresses all that hear my story. The evening was early but the house was already infused with orange lamplight and the warm scent of burning dust as the central heating kicked in. I recall how the entire kitchen was mirrored in the rain-splattered window, and how the ghastly scenes that would unfold play out before me now like that very same reflection! I hasten to add, at this early stage of my tale, that if somebody had chanced to be gazing voyeuristically in at that window, they would have been appalled at the vision of a young disobedient boy rooting through the cupboards full of ignorance and his own sense of invincibility.

I must confess that for many months prior to the incident I harboured an unhealthy and dangerous habit. I had always been fond of instant noodle snacks, but as a result of eating these on such a regular basis began to develop a craving for new flavours. To my poor unsuspecting reader this will seem such an obvious and despicable thing to attempt, but I defend myself with merely the explanation that I became tangled up in a web of desire and my own naivety. I would, ashamedly, often try to intensify the little sachet of flavouring provided with the noodle cake by adding my own ingredients; tossing all manner of herbs and spices into the bubbling froth of the saucepan. I would so foolishly and bare-facedly add English herbs into this Oriental snack, or spoon in French Mustard; gravy granules; tomato ketchup; anything. How it disturbs one to think how many decent and honest hot snacks I impaired the flavour of!

The night in question was such an ideal opportunity for experimentation. The house was empty, save for Mother who was engrossed in an interesting documentary on television. I had the kitchen to myself, and without my actions being under close supervision or scrutiny began to get my grubby little hands stuck into my drawers, frantically fingering the array of pots and jars. I rummaged through every cupboard, shelf and drawer, searching for that ‘new hit’, the one thing I had never added before. I tossed in the usual array of spices and sauces; a squirt of brown sauce; mint; dill; apple sauce – it really was George’s Marvellous Medicine all over again! I apologise, I must not make light of this situation, for I shall wipe the innocent smirk from my poor listener. I opened the fridge door, enticed immediately by the bright lights and virgin white glow of that haven of food stuffs! I reached, grasped even, with the shiny blue foil packet that had just became the new victim of my lust. I fumbled with impatience and urgency, tearing desperately at the little red tag that enables fast and efficient opening of such packaging designs, and removed one of the inhabitants of that foil den of iniquity. I removed one golden square; one flimsy and limp and deceitful beast; one cheese slice. I lay the thin square flat across the bubbling salty foam of my simmering noodles. Instantly, to my horror and repulsion, the slice melted into milk and quickly contaminated my beloved salty dark stock!

I only wish I could say I stopped my vile quest at that disturbing moment, but I proceeded soon after wiping the fearful sweats from my brow. I grabbed the saucepan, or cauldron, and delicately poured the devilish concoction into a bowl for my own devouring. I twirled a string of the worm-like noodles around my glistening fork and blew frantically at the hot stuff, ready to shove the lot into my naïve gob. As soon as the repulsive taste hit my young and innocent palate I gargled and heaved slightly, disgusted and ashamed; oh how I could nearly have been sick a bit! I reacted fast, and tipped the entire contents of the bowl into a dustbin before Mother could potentially discover me red-faced and sweaty, panting and lurching over the steaming monstrosity. The noodles had been ruined. I had finally gone too far into that wilderness of inexperience and lack of catering knowledge. I went to bed strangely early that night with a faint glow of embarrassment upon my cheeks.

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