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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

The fastest cake

It's difficult to find things to do at the weekend. Having spent all week being incredibly time efficient: doing my shopping on-line while at work; studying in my lunch breaks; reading improving literature on the bus to and from work; helping the poor and needy orphans in the evenings... By the time it comes to Sunday afternoon, I've done everything I'm required to do, and I find myself increasingly lost for options. I've been to the gym, I've tidied the Nest'O'Love, I've found the cure for AIDS, I've watched two hours of House, it's 2.00pm and I've got nothing left to do. I could, of course, get the hoover out again and give it a quick twice-over, but He Who Only... says that OCD isn't sexy, and I've had to restrict the hand washing and light switch flicking to when he's not in the room.

Today I hit on another brilliant scheme in which to occupy myself and He Who Only...'s wandering eye: baking. I decided today was the day in which to start learning how to make scones.

The first batch turned out like this:


The second batch turned out like this:



One batch involved me working on my own, without interruption. The other batch included the special assistance of He Who Only... hurling flour everywhere, knocking sultanas to the floor, giving me lectures on the best way to sieve and spending longer than is decent squishing butter between his fingers.

If it helps, there they are side by side:



The difference, I think you'll agree, is striking. Them on the left there, those ones are scones as I understood scones to be. The second lot (on the right as you face them)... Well, there's something wrong with them. Something to do with... um... the general flatness.

It might help to see them side-on:



You see what I mean? They're like scones, but flat. They're like scones, but scones that have gone terribly wrong. They're also like biscuits, but biscuits that have gone terribly wrong. They're like someone tried baking, but it all went terribly wrong.

Those ones, you'll have already guessed, were mine.

He Who Only's baking extravaganza looked more like this:



Easier to cut in half and get the cream and jam on. We've named the other ones "Stink Biscuits". Hey, he might be able to cook, but I'm the one that invented a new form of food. Not bad for an idle Sunday afternoon's work.

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