Yes children, it's that time again.
Time for you to open your minds so that I may pour my knowledge into it's most wrinkled places.
The hands are your brains and the water is my thirst quenching kn - You know what, I shouldn't have to explain this. This is why you need me.
I'd like you to picture the scene.
It's World War 2. You're a plucky British soldier, down on his luck. You're resting your weary head after a hard day of not having any tea to drink... and fighting nazis, I suppose, but's that's not nearly as important.
An empty teacup... it's just... too hard to bare.
The Germans are advancing on your position, reinforcements are enroute but they might not make it in time and you can't rely on anyone else.
The French are too busy surrendering, the Americans are too busy stealing the credit, the Aussies are too busy losing at cricket, the Kiwis are too busy being unnoticed and the Canadian are...
Well they're Canadian.
So there you are, surrounded by the enemy, low on supplies, low on reliable allies, and it's up to you, the plucky British soldier, to keep it classy and show those bloody Jerries what's what.
What, what.
But how?
You furrow your brow in thought, if only there was sort of mcguffin you could use, something that you could use to destroy the enemy once and for all...
You sigh, you'll never find anything like that and you sit down to what will probably be your last meal.
You look at the bowl in front of you. Gruel again?
Mmmm, tasty...
Suddenly, you hear the singing of angels, a pillar of light surrounds you and you feel a familiar warmth as a booming voice fills your ears.
"My child, you have done well, despite the complete and utter incompetence of the other allied forces. But you will not survive the coming hours without my aid. Accept this gift, and use it to smite your foes into tasty submission..."
You won't find this kind of knowledge in books based on 'facts'.
The singing fades, and the warmth fades, but it does not disappear. You look down at your gruel and gasp.
The gruel is gruel no longer. Steam licks at the air, tantalising your tastebuds, ravishing your nostrils.
The gruel is nowdiamonds Bangers & Mash.
Phwoar!
But this meal is not for eating, you know this, you feel it in your mind, you know exactly what to do you.
You pick up the saintly meal and march out of the camp, the Germans spot you and open fire.
You smile, for you know that their bullets will not harm you. You walk up their front line, German screams fill your ears.
"Ze bangers! Neeeeeeeiiiiiiin!"
You hold the Bangers & Mash above your head, the familiar warmth returns, the angelic singing returns and you know that you have just enough time to utter a witty one liner.
"Eat this."
A taste explosion. I call it a Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup].
'Scientists' will tell you that sausages in WW2 contained a high level of water, and as they cook, the produced steam has nowhere to go, and they explode, hence the term 'bangers'.
Well they are wrong. The sheer wholesome delicousness of Banger & Mash is so powerful, that it caused a Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup].
"But Daystar, you behemoth of sexual prowess, how do I know that you didn't just make this up to make an entertaining thread?"
That's a good question and one I can easily answer.
Shortly after this incident, we aided the Americans in a little project. We used our knowledge of the Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup] to aid them.
That power was unleashed on Hiroshima.
True story.
[sub]This thread is in no way meant to undermine the losses of WW2 or to insult anyone, just a funny story made by a silly guy.[/sub]
True story.
Shout out goes to Melon Hunter [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/profiles/view/Melon+Hunter] for giving me the idea for today's topic.
Time for you to open your minds so that I may pour my knowledge into it's most wrinkled places.
The hands are your brains and the water is my thirst quenching kn - You know what, I shouldn't have to explain this. This is why you need me.
I'd like you to picture the scene.
It's World War 2. You're a plucky British soldier, down on his luck. You're resting your weary head after a hard day of not having any tea to drink... and fighting nazis, I suppose, but's that's not nearly as important.
An empty teacup... it's just... too hard to bare.
The Germans are advancing on your position, reinforcements are enroute but they might not make it in time and you can't rely on anyone else.
The French are too busy surrendering, the Americans are too busy stealing the credit, the Aussies are too busy losing at cricket, the Kiwis are too busy being unnoticed and the Canadian are...
Well they're Canadian.
So there you are, surrounded by the enemy, low on supplies, low on reliable allies, and it's up to you, the plucky British soldier, to keep it classy and show those bloody Jerries what's what.
What, what.
But how?
You furrow your brow in thought, if only there was sort of mcguffin you could use, something that you could use to destroy the enemy once and for all...
You sigh, you'll never find anything like that and you sit down to what will probably be your last meal.
You look at the bowl in front of you. Gruel again?
Suddenly, you hear the singing of angels, a pillar of light surrounds you and you feel a familiar warmth as a booming voice fills your ears.
"My child, you have done well, despite the complete and utter incompetence of the other allied forces. But you will not survive the coming hours without my aid. Accept this gift, and use it to smite your foes into tasty submission..."
You won't find this kind of knowledge in books based on 'facts'.
The singing fades, and the warmth fades, but it does not disappear. You look down at your gruel and gasp.
The gruel is gruel no longer. Steam licks at the air, tantalising your tastebuds, ravishing your nostrils.
The gruel is now
Phwoar!
But this meal is not for eating, you know this, you feel it in your mind, you know exactly what to do you.
You pick up the saintly meal and march out of the camp, the Germans spot you and open fire.
You smile, for you know that their bullets will not harm you. You walk up their front line, German screams fill your ears.
"Ze bangers! Neeeeeeeiiiiiiin!"
You hold the Bangers & Mash above your head, the familiar warmth returns, the angelic singing returns and you know that you have just enough time to utter a witty one liner.
"Eat this."
A taste explosion. I call it a Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup].
'Scientists' will tell you that sausages in WW2 contained a high level of water, and as they cook, the produced steam has nowhere to go, and they explode, hence the term 'bangers'.
Well they are wrong. The sheer wholesome delicousness of Banger & Mash is so powerful, that it caused a Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup].
"But Daystar, you behemoth of sexual prowess, how do I know that you didn't just make this up to make an entertaining thread?"
That's a good question and one I can easily answer.
Shortly after this incident, we aided the Americans in a little project. We used our knowledge of the Tastesplosion[sup]TM[/sup] to aid them.
That power was unleashed on Hiroshima.
True story.
[sub]This thread is in no way meant to undermine the losses of WW2 or to insult anyone, just a funny story made by a silly guy.[/sub]
True story.
Shout out goes to Melon Hunter [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/profiles/view/Melon+Hunter] for giving me the idea for today's topic.
