Tuesday, 29 January 2013

Fried Bread - Appellation d'origine contrôlée

The Sock Puppet: Mr Bread, it's said you mean all things to all men...

Fried Bread: Hi, how're ya doin? Sadly no. It's only true to say I have meant few things to several men.
Fried Bread
Fried Bread's on the radio again!
TSP: So what do you mean to women?

FB: Even fewer things and to far less of them, but I am widely loved by the fairer sex... more often as a secret passion. Indeed a good many women have been warned to avoid me at all costs.

TSP: How would you describe yourself?

FB: Light, crisp, and laden with woof.

TSP: What is your secret?

FB: That would be telling, wouldn't it? Let us just say, I succeed in being thoroughly buttery by remaining utterly stale to the core.

TSP: How would you like to be remembered?

FB: As a pleasant after dinner taste, dear boy. My imitators leave a lardy smear on the tongue.

TSP: When was your finest hour?

FB: Serving my sovereign, I think, or guesting at a posh nosh.

TSP: How should you be prepared?

FB: Natural gas. Swear by it!

TSP: Straight out the pan?

FB: And into the cake-hole! With a brace of tinned tomatoes, of course

TSP: Who would play you in the film of your life?

FB: Erm, Huge... whathisname?

TSP: Huge Lorry?

FB: No, not that oaf! He couldn't play housey-housey! Huge Grant, I mean. Or Nigel Kennedy could have a stab at the old cackass. Next question!

TSP: What is your greatest fear?

FB: Of being taken for toast.

TSP: It's been said, you are - what used to be called - “middle brow”...

FB: Oh, I know, I know! Another one is “half-baked”, then there's “the sugar-loafer” and “dough-boy” These are all mere clichés, of course.

TSP: Really?

FB: Devoid of all meaning. The truth is even plainer: I am as mealy-mouthed as any self-respecting lump of carbohydrate.
Fried Bread
Fried Bread is a member of Equity
TSP: How do you envisage your end?

FB: As crotons sprinkled over French onion soup? Lapped up by someone equally scrumptious as myself - a Carla Bruni, for example, or a Justin Bieber?

TSP: That's not very patriotic of you!

FB: Well, it's one better than some snot-nosed Brummie kid sopping up his bacon fat with me!

TSP: There's talk of awarding you heritage status... are you rye or wry?

FB: Very funny words indeed, coming from your mouth!

TSP: At least I have a mouth!

FB: More like a foot and mouth!

TSP: Do us a poem, then!

FB: If you insist! This one's called “crumbs in the bed”

crumbs in the bed
a breakfast of tupenny
rhyming poetry is dead
good of you to photocopy
a cup of tea instead
of jumping right on top of me 

TSP: God, that was shite!

FB: I know. Dismal what you can get away with these days, dontchya think?
Fried Bread

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