Ya can stick your Posh rolling pin up your Posh arse!

Just sat watching some shite Saturday morning cooking programme (four words that go together like chicken chow mein or pineapple upside down cake) and just before it starts I say “Posh chefs on TV annoy the fuck out of me…no-one else can go scouring the country for the perfect herb or the best cut of lamb…we go to ASDA”…and what happens just five minutes later on the programme? He toddles off to Glastonbury in search of the herb witch who shows him a shitload of new wild herbs. You could write this shit!

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