Follow these simple instructions to create the best Christmas Dinner ever.
Half a pig, sealed in plastic
1 previously happy and breathing turkey
Oregano and other assorted spices
Assorted vegetables (must include Brussels sprouts)
2kg plum pudding
1 litre of custard
2 quality bottles of Gin
Turn oven on and leave the door open. Close the kitchen doors and windows and wait an hour before going back in.
Attempt to unwrap the pig from the plastic.
Resist the urge to call out to the husband to unwrap the pig; the drunken sod would only lop a finger off in his state .
Whack the pig and the turkey into the oven. Remove the turkey because you’ve forgotten to buy stuffing.
Go to the supermarket yourself to find the stuffing. Drunken sod of a husband can barely cope with Lego assembly at this point. Besides, good opportunity to get away from whining child.
Triumphantly leave the blood soaked arena, AKA the fifth 7–11, with the last packet of sage & onion stuffing on the planet.
Shove the stuffing up the turkeys arse.
Whack the turkey into the oven.
Place vegetables in separate pots with water and commence the boiling process.
Remove the turkey from the oven, take the stuffing out of the box, mix according to the instructions and whack the mix back up the turkey’s arse.
Tell hubby to get the fuck out of the kitchen.
Insist he leaves the gravy alone.
The gravy! Empty the gravy into another saucepan, add water and stir until a lumpy consistency is achieved.
Open the gin and pour a generous portion into any available receptacle. Add tonic water to taste.
Notice the turkey still sitting on the bench next to the oven.
Take the turkey and stick in the bin, together with the box of stuffing.
Chugalug the gin and pour some more.
Consider divorcing husband for sticking on “best of the 80’s” and wailing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”.
Wonder if your mother is going to make pointed observations about your culinary skills. Or his mother for that matter.
After an hour and a half of boiling, drain the vegetables and throw them into an oven tray with some oil, oregano and whatever else is available. Gin is nice.
Place the oven tray into the oven with the deceased pig and leave them to burn some more.
Wonder why the room is spinning.
Resist the urge to tell your mother and mother in law to go and shove their ideas about cooking up any available personal orifice.
Fend off the drunken amorous advances of your soon to be ex-husband.
When the smoke alarm goes off, extract the pig, the vegetables and anything else that could possibly be edible from the oven.
Actively prevent your husband from attempting to carve the pig.
On second thoughts, he’s insured — give him the knife and stand back.
Serve the food, sans fingers, to the waiting rabble.
Ignore the argument that is taking place between your husband and the kids as to the viability of brussel sprouts as edible foodstuffs.
Smile kindly at your parents and parents-in law when they make comment about how lovely the charred remains of the vegetables are.
Make an excuse that you have to start the dessert, and depart to the kitchen.
Make yourself a sandwich, grab second bottle of gin and a good book and hide in the bedroom with a “headache” until the rabble has departed.