What is it with parsley? It’s horrid. It tastes like fields and farms and awful in my mouth. Yet every time I order food in an eating establishment that isn’t my own house it comes draped in lashings of this muck.
Why must I go through my entire restaurant-dinner-eating life in dread of the inevitable arrival a thousand acres worth of roughly chopped parsley, regardless of what I ordered?
Why must I spend the first five minutes of dinner time desperately attempting to excavate the remains of the parsley free food buried several feet beneath the green atrocity? WHY?!?!?! *Bangs head on keyboard in display of desperation, anxiety, stress etc*
Does all food taste shit without the addition of parsley? No. All food tastes wonderfully much better when kept parsley free, as GOD INTENDED. And do they warn you of the arrival of parsley ALL OVER YOUR DIN DIN? Do they fuck.
Who are the people that like parsley? Are they real? Do they spot a dinner flooded in parsley and think… oh yummy scrummy! I do love a bit of parsley. Don’t know why I didn’t just order a great big plate of it. Oh parsley, a treat indeed… and so on.
Are there people that actually buy parsley in supermarkets? Do they pay for it? My curiosity is, as you see, infinite. This, incidentally, was the general advice on living life given by Stephen Hawking at the Paralympic ceremony last night. Strange advice that… “Be curious”. Bet the cat wouldn’t agree.
Anyway I digress; I’m still pissed off about the parsley. In fact I’m half surprised when I order pudding and it doesn’t come touting a massive green parsley hat. A chocolate cake came with minted cream the other day though, which is almost as offensive.