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 Michael Whiner, semi-retired film maker, part-time restaurant critic, full time loud-mouth and the enfant-terrible of the British film industry; chews over the week's events.
This week, Michael pays a visit to Chunder - The Bush Tucker Buffet. The restaurant is owned by the renowned Australian chef, Bruce "Bruce" McBruce. It combines fine dining, a relaxed ambiance and cooking with insects.
As usual, Michael is already in full flow...
"So does he or doesn't he? That's the question. What do you mean you don't follow? I'm talking about Kingsleygate! Don't you read the papers? Basically it boils down to this. Does Ben Kingsley insist on being called Sir Ben or not? Some people say he does. He denies it and says he's embarrassed by the whole business. I have to say if he did insist on being called Sir Ben, I'd back him one hundred percent. In the highly unlikely event that I ever get a call to the palace, I'm going to insist on being addressed by my full title at all times. And given the number of times that I've been pulled over by the traffic police having driven while in possession of a skin-full, it would give me no small amount of pleasure to have them address me as sir for a change!
So this is a witchatee grub is it? Hmm. At first glance it appears to strongly resemble the first Mrs Whiner. A formidable woman. She once bit a dog and it died of rabies. She had to go. But I digress. Back to the grub. It's an interesting flavour. Almonds, WD-40 and a hint of earthworm. I don't think very much of this green ant pâté either. I need something to cleanse the palate after that. A merlot, I think. Full-bodied and fruity. Rather like myself, in fact.
I see that Peter Benchley has died. He was, of course, the man who wrote the book, 'Jaws'. And as far as I'm aware he never wrote anything as good again. His widow says that he actually liked sharks. Well seeing as they made him into a multi-millionaire I'm not bloody surprised. Presumably, J.K. Rowling is equally fond of witches, wizards and black magic. I'm quite fond of black magic too. I'm especially partial to the coffee crèmes.
Better enjoy a quick cigar before this bloody smoking ban comes in. Still at least I can still drink in public. I live in fear of the day that they discover that there's such a thing as passive cirrhosis of the liver. Mind you, if there is, I've probably taken out more people then a small army in my time. Ah well. If you have to go, go sloshed. That's my motto."
Cheers,
Michael
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