seared tuna with carrot flowers, horseradish potatoes and spring greens

The meal this evening:

Tonight was supposed to be a lovely romantic night, filled with Amazing Race and cosiness on the settee. I was going to take the lock off the central heating and allow Paul to put the heating on – well, it was icy on my car this morning, I think I’ve been entirely Geordie enough about the temperature thing. We’ve got one of those god-awful ‘why yes, I’m incontinent’ gas fires that the previous old couple had installed and I hate it. It hisses and smells, rather like Paul – and has equally dangerous levels of combustible gas. Anyway. That idea was quite literally put to bed as, after I made him the delicious dinner you see below, he went to ‘drop the kids off’ and fell asleep on the toilet. So he’s away for an early night (in bed, that is – he’s not still on the netty) and I’m left to do the cleaning up, accompanied only by the sound of his snoring, gasping for air and death-rattle farting. He’s lucky he’s so deliciously squishy.

Actually, I say it’s quiet, but I’m actually being tormented by Cat Number 2 (Sola), who is currently outside the house trying to get in. No problem, I’ll open the door. Except when I do, she sits there meowing and runs off as soon as I go to pick her up. Now she isn’t fucking Lassie, I know there’s no-one trapped down a well (and plus she’s an evil cat – she’d be at the top of the well having a shit over the rim rather than dashing for help), she’s just doing it to torment me. I sit down at the computer chair, and I hear the scratching at the front door begin. Then, she sticks her paw in a loose bit of fixture on the door and pulls it back just enough to make a tapping sound. Again and again and again. I put up with it, I curse at her, then I eventually get up, open the door, and off she flees. My own cat is playing Knocky-fucking-Nine Doors with me! It’s bad enough I wake up to the sight of her licking her pencil sharpener every single morning, now she’s bullying me at night too! Bag. I might see if I can take her to the vet and get her un-spayed, just because she was so hilariously grumpy for the few days after her last op. That’ll teach her.

No need for a recipe breakdown here, I don’t think – says it all above! The bit about balsamic pearls is just something extra, you absolutely don’t need to dick about doing that. It does look good though, even if the tuna in the photo looks like Vern from the leech scene in Stand by Me. Don’t judge, I only had a crappy sugar thermometer. Always good to learn new techniques though and it was the recipe here that I used. Give it a go!

Oh! One thing. You could easily make this a syn free meal by omitting the horseradish, but I find it adds a nice hit of heat to an otherwise plain, but delicious, dinner.

I’m trying hard to get into fish for an evening meal, with the old adage of ‘if it swims, it slims’ ringing in my ears. But so far, only tuna has passed muster, with everything else being deemed too fishy by my sensitive tastebuds. People always do the same thing when I mention I don’t like fish – have you tried swordfish, oysters, trout, blah blah – yes! I have! I’m not unadventurous when it comes to food – I’ll try anything and never say I don’t like something without trying it. So I’m working my way through more fish, but, you know if you were to put down a steak and a piece of fish, you’d be able to tell which was fish because of the taste? It’s THAT taste I don’t like. Not fishiness, just…non-meatiness!

Fish does remind me of a favourite memory, though. I used to go on holiday to Montreuil-sur-Mer with a very good mate, and despite us both being common as muck, we decided to see if we could get a table at the poshest restaurant in the area, the Château de Montreuil, a ridiculously uptight fine-dining affair, not quite our level. Well no, nowhere near our level. We managed to bluff our way through the million courses until we were served a tiny blini with what I imagine was very good caviar atop. At the precise moment my friend put it into his mouth, I made a snide comment about one of the waiters and, of course with me being so deliciously cutting, he promptly burst out laughing, with the barely digested blini and caviar arcing gracefully across the table and landing in my doubtless very-expensive glass of white wine. Well, that was it for me, I was beyond help, in veritable paroxysms of laughter, but he was momentarily ashen. What to do? All manner of French lemon-mouthed hoity-toitys had turned to look at us. So, cool as a chinese cucumber, he reaches across the table, lifts my glass and downs the lot – wine, caviar and blini – in one full gulp and crashes the glass down on the table with a loud exclamation of ‘DEE-LICIOUS’.

Good heavens.

It’s no wonder other nations think we’re such an uncultured bunch. Ah he’s brilliant.

I’m off to try and rouse Paul and salvage the last of our evening. I want my bloody one-syn chocolate orange for one thing! I’ve mulled over the best way to wake him up, and I’ve settled on playing Les Dennis doing his Mavis impression on loop through the wireless speaker in our bedroom. Ain’t I a stinker…

Goodnight,

J

shaved sprout salad with bacon matchsticks, cubed sweet potato and sunblush tomatoes

Christ I wanted to give my recipe today a pretentious restaurant title and I think I’ve succeeded. For all those people, like me, who don’t like a fussy title, don’t worry, it’s essentially just cooked sweet potato, sundried tomatoes and bacon mixed with sliced brussel sprouts.

Before we get to the recipe, I need to make an announcement that I’m really a terrible grandson. I had plans to visit my nana today (she only lives 30 miles away and it’s a nice drive), but I didn’t get round to it because I got caught up gardening and playing on the Xbox. It will probably do my diet the world of good anyway, as whenever Paul and I go and visit we get the same questions…’would you like a bit of quiche / eight kitkats / mince pie / mince and potato pie / sandwich / lovely bit of tongue (steady) / a Ferrari Racket chocolate from ALDI etc…’ which, when met with polite refusal and cries of ‘but no, we’re on a diet’ results in a look like you’ve taken a shit on the carpet and woes of ‘It’ll never get eaten, it’s just me in this house’ and ‘a quarter inch thick layer of butter on your sandwich will do you no harm’. Honestly! And mind that’s even if she hears your refusal, she’s so tone deaf you could fell a tree in the living room behind her chair and she’d smile bemused at you and say EH.

My nana is amazing, mind, no doubt about that. She is totally accepting of the whole Paul and I being bummers situation, though she did once ask ‘which one was the woman’ which was slightly awkward, as I thought she meant which of us preferred an ‘unexpected item in the bagging area’ – but she was actually meaning who did the ironing/cooking etc (remember she’s in her late eighties). Ha! So I’ll go visit her on Tuesday with my usual refrain of ‘I DIDN’T LIKE TO CHANCE LEAVING IT TOO LONG NANA, IN CASE I NEED TO GET MY FUNERAL SUIT DRY-CLEANED’. God, I love her to bits.

Anyway, enough about nana – my absence at her house through gardening was a nice link to me talking about the surfeit of brussel sprouts that we suddenly have thanks to my green-fingered neighbour (the one to our side, rather than the tenebrific old trout who lives opposite) handing them to me with a deaf-man-bellow of GET THEM EATEN DIVVENT WASTE THEM’. So, I got to thinking what I could do with them, and with Paul ‘being the woman’ (ie doing the ironing) (not my actual view I hasten to add), I decided on this fruity number.

RIGHT, before we start with the details, let me say two things: if you’re not a fan of sprouts, please still give this a go. Sprouts in Britain seem to be served boiled within an inch of their life and will leave your whole house smelling like a condemned nursing home. This doesn’t need to be. Sliced very thinly and dressed well, they’re a crunchy, tasty wonder. Second – yes, this meal is synned – you could make it syn free by omitting the dressing but remember, you have the syns to use, and why not make your evening meal that bit nicer simply by making a dressing to go with the salad? Even then, four syns is still a very excessive estimate – I reckon it would come in at two syns if you omitted the cheese at the end. OK…

ingredients: sprouts, an egg, bacon medallions (or bacon with fat cut off), sundried tomatoes (replace with fresh tomatoes grilled if you want to lower the syns), sweet potato, parmesan shavings. For the dressing, honey, olive oil and lemon juice.

recipe: right, the dressing first. 4 tbsp of lemon juice, 1 tsp of honey (1 syn), 1 tbsp of olive oil (2 syns), some salt, some pepper. Put it in a jamjar and shake, shake, shake! Double up if you need two servings. Then, cube up the sweet potato (leave the skin on) into 1cm chunks, add a tiny bit of olive oil and shake them around to get them coated, add a bit of salt, roast in the oven until soft. Also, stick your bacon on the grill or at the top of the oven to cook. Meanwhile, get your sprouts and take off the outer leaves if they’re a bit muddy or torn. Then the tricky bit – slice the sprouts as thin as you can. You can use a knife, yes, but honestly, get a mandolin. They’re a tenner from Lakeland and you’ll use it for all sorts – coleslaw, sliced potatoes, fruit salad, sprouts. Order one here and never look back. But BE CAREFUL. The sprouts are small and the blade is sharp – just take your time. I used about 30 sprouts in all.

After you’ve shaved your sprouts, get your fingers in and lightly toss them off (haha) so they separate, but you don’t need to go crazy – different textures are what makes this a good salad. Slice your tomatoes and add them in. Add in your cubed sweet potato (cooked) and bacon (now sliced). Arrange on a plate nice and dainty like. Poach your egg (lots of ways to do this, but I go old-school – pan of simmering water, create a whirlpool, drop the egg in from a little glass, poach and serve). Fish it out with a slotted spoon, put on top of the salad, cut the yolk and you’re done. I’ve added a bit of parmesan because why not – hence the four syns.

extra-easy: definitely – this is a fantastic meal because it’s nearly all superfree food, bar the dressing. Sprouts, tomatoes and sweet potato make up the meal, with a bit of bacon and dressing and egg on top. Yes, you can omit the dressing or replace it with a vinaigrette if you want to save the syns – and omit the cheese. But come on, live a little! Heh.

top tips: normally I say you can add all sorts to this salad, but don’t – keep it nice and simple. It’s an excellent new way of trying sprouts and I guarantee you’ll never look back. I’d love to know what people think! But DO get a mandolin. It’ll save those pretty fingers of yours.

FINALLY, my fortnightly call – if you’re enjoying this blog, please tell people on facebook and share it far and wide. I love new readers, comments, fuss – anything at all! I’d be very grateful and I’ll dance at your wedding if you do.

J

making a vegetable curry, and exposing my bumhole to a leafleter

I’ve done a bit of rejigging on the blog as I realised it was getting difficult to find all the recipes – so now if you’re looking for them, just click the category on the right and voila, all the badly realised comic-style recipes you can manage! 

Paul’s actually off down in London at the ‘Give Britain a Payrise’ rally. I work in the private sector so my eyes tend to glaze over when he goes on about rallies and protests, but fair play to the bugger for campaigning. Last time I told him to try and keep a low profile, and he ended up headlining the 1pm news with a soundbite about pensions. Even worse, the last time his place of work went on strike, he threw himself in front of someone’s car and called her a scab, without realising it was the Chief Executive inside. Oops. Anyway, he’s coming back home now and the latest text I got was ‘Missing you, dying for a shit’, which I don’t really know how to take but I’ll assume it was meant as a compliment.

I spent all morning lying in bed and willing myself to get up, but I didn’t quite manage it until 1pm. Which sounds lazy, but I’ve had a very long week and our bed is super comfortable. Actually, that’s a bit of a fib as I got up once and managed to moon someone putting a leaflet through our front door at the same time. I should explain. I got up for a wee and noticed the postman had been. We sleep naked, but the curtains were drawn so I went to the front door and bent down, completely naked, at the same time someone pushed a takeaway leaflet through the letterbox. Luckily our front door has that weird frosted glass in it, but I’m still fairly sure he got a damn good view of my tea-towel holder winking at him as I scrabbled to pick up the post. Ah well. This afternoon I decided to take it upon myself to go to B&M to find an elusive curry mix that Slimming World members go on about which is low in syns. Now, I’ve never been in B&M before, and well, goodness me.

Let me caveat the following by saying that I’m no snob, I don’t mind cheap shops and I don’t care how much something costs. But honest to god, I’ve never seen so many people with missing teeth in one place. I felt like I was at a gingivitis support class. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many polyester-mix fleeces rubbed against me as people rugby-charged past to get to the Playboy mirrors. I’m lucky I didn’t come out of there sparking and jolting like Electro from Spiderman. I did, however, get the elusive curry mix – Mayflower Curry Sauce Mix, at 8 syns for 56g (which makes more than enough sauce for two people to have a curry). With this in my hot sweaty hands, and the smell of chip-pans and sour milk a mere memory, I set about making tonight’s meal – a vegetable curry.

This was supposed to be a chicken curry, but fate put the kibosh on that. I defrosted the chicken, had the audacity to leave the room for a minute to have a slash, only to find upon my return Bowser (our cat) munching his way through it, having dragged it out of the kitchen, across the living room and into his cat house. I was gone less than a minute, and the chicken was steaming hot. He must have been like bloody lightning, so I let him have the chicken and decided to ‘superfree’ the curry instead. He got a stern look and as a punishment, I won’t be turning on his water fountain tonight and he’ll just have to quench his thirst like a normal cat.

ingredients: all the veg you see above, and really, anything you have spare. Pack it out with whatever you have left in the freezer, or tins, or fresh – we tend to buy a lot of stuff on the off-chance we’ll use it and then chuck it out, but don’t – throw it all in the curry. It’s a fantastic way of getting your superfree food quota, and this meal is easily over your 1/3 portion size rule. Serve with rice, or chips, or even on its own as a warming treat. It’ll certainly warm you again in eight hours or so.

recipe: cut up all your veg, add a dash of water, steam it until soft but not mush. The mushier the veg, the less nutrients, plus it’ll feel like you’re eating your dinner in a nursing home. To make the curry sauce, add 56g of powder to cold water, and start whisking. Turn the heat up to get the liquid to boiling, then whack it right back down to a very low heat. It’ll thicken in no time at all, but if you stop whisking, it’ll end up lumpy. Mix it up with the veg and serve with your side.

extra-easy: yes – though not syn free. the sauce is 8 syns for 56g of powder but then divided down into portion size, I reckon about 2 syns. This recipe would easily serve four. You’ve got more superfree food in here than you could shake a water-retaining finger at. Best of all, it really DOES taste like takeaway curry.

top tips: this would be made a lot more ‘takeaway’ by taking away a lot of the veg, and remaking it with cooked chicken, garden peas and chunks of onion. It could be made even more takeaway by flicking some fag ash and a few chest hairs in there, and having the ‘chicken’ squeak when you bite into it.

OK, anyway – enjoy. I’m off to shave off my beard. Sob!

J

mustard chicken and a singing turnip!

apologies for not updating yesterday, but I sat down at my computer chair at 8am and didn’t it until 1am today. Bit tired. I bet I end up being one of the unlucky fuckers who end up getting DVT from working on the sixth floor. My office is absolutely littered with sweets – Haribo on one desk, Celebrations on the other. One of my colleagues seems to be systemically buying out the sweets counter at the Sainsbury’s next door. Not that I mind, she’s a very kind soul and I’m a proper greedy sod.

So, because it’s late, let’s have a simple recipe:

At first look, it looks boring as hell. It isn’t! The key is microwaving the turnip/swede. Cut a little hole in the top, and stick it in the microwave for 15 minutes. After a while, it’ll start whistling. Take it out, spoon out the flesh, mash it and mash it hard. Chicken was just fromage frais and a tiny dollop of mustard. Maybe a syn for the mustard but come on.

Now – I’ve got to cut a dash. It’s a night off, I want to watch old Scrotum Face Alan Sugar fire people, and Paul has bought me a new Pedegg after I wore the last one out. Eeep.

J

cheap-ass syn-free onion jam

proper proud of myself and my penny pinching. Normally I don’t give the reduced section in the supermarket a second glance – not because I’m a snob but because I don’t like fearing for my life and jostling with people with no teeth for 13p off a fizzy egg and ham bap. I mean honestly. I shit you not when I say I’ve seen a proper physical fight over a Whoops trifle in Asda in Blyth, with security being called and everything. I do love the fact they call their reductions ‘Whoops’ though – it’s so camp – you might as well stick ‘What am I like’ after it and have a small photo of a man holding his fingertips to his lips. In Waitrose you don’t get any of that puff and bluster, just a discreet sticker that you can hide under your copy of the Daily Mail and quinoa-soaked-in-tears salad. Anyway the reason for all of this is because I managed to get a 2kg bag of red onions from Morrisons after class yesterday for the grand sum of 35p! yes, 35p for a bag of on-the-turn onion already chopped up and ready for action. I couldn’t freeze them as our freezer is full of lollies, dough and about eighty-eight bags of cod fillet that we keep buying at the supermarket and telling ourselves we’ll eat more fish. We never do, you’d think we’d learn.

So, I put out a question onto a SW group on FB, which has been invaluable in providing tips, and the general consensus was that I should make a chutney. Someone very thoughtfully provided a recipe, so as one good turn deserves another, here is a recipe card:

Because I’m a bit prissy, I generally don’t like sweetener as it’s an awful amount of chemicals for nothing at all. Just use a bit of sugar or even better, honey. If you want to make it with sugar, add a good tablespoon and call it five syns, but sweetener will be free. Add to sterilised jars (dishwasher, highest temp, leave to air dry) and it’ll keep for a few days in the fridge. Perfect with meat!

J

“all I’ve learned has overturned” – weigh in week four!

well blow me (lie back and think of the Body Magic). after all my moaning and picking fitfully at Paul’s shirt in the car and telling him to turn it around and “we’ll go next week”, we’ve only both gone and lost. Admittedly, not massive losses, but its going in the right direction! SEE:

Based on a stat I found somewhere. really impressed with ourselves – in a month we’ve lost 1 stone and a half, and I reckon I can get my stone award next week. I’m not quite sure what happens when I get that other than I get a sticker on my book. But there’s a lesson here! I was adamant that I’d ruined my week and didn’t want to go so that I wouldn’t ruin my streak, but that’s stupid, and we would have been face-down in a tub of ice-cream quicker than you could say ‘have a bit of respect’. Get your arse to class every week and never put it off. Only that way can you stay in control.

Recipe card tomorrow – apologies for the double post!

J

being a lush on slimming world – permitted!

Only a quick post tonight as Paul and I are having a lazy day – shepherds pie for supper and all day breakfast spaghetti for lunch. It’s been a bloody awful busy week so we’re kicking back with Doctor Who and enjoying ourselves.

I don’t drink as a matter of course, since I somewhat overdid it in college, but I spotted this on offer in Sainsbury’s (£20) and had to have it. We collect Absolut vodkas and have a tonne of unopened vodkas in our man-shed (seriously, if that ever went up in flames it would be like Piper Alpha), but we had to open this.

Vodka weighs in at 4 syns per 35ml shot, so a double is a healthy 8 syns. Mixed with decent lemonade, that’s not a terrible way to spend an evening.

The rules around alcohol on SW are easy enough:

• stay away from owt creamy or mixed – firstly, you shouldn’t be drinking Bacardi Breezers et all unless you’re 11, but they’re full of sugar – and Baileys etc is just cream and sugar and alcohol. That’s a no-no Nanette.
• wine – a large glass of dry white or a decent red is 6 syns. For the record, a large glass is 175ml, not one of these:
• bottled beer kicks in at around 9 syns per bottle, and for the most part tastes like rats piss stewed in a sock, so stay away.

No, really the only thing to take away from this post is to keep it clear and mix with diet mixers. Then you’ll be reet / turn yellow.

J

weigh-in – week two!

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Wahey! FINALLY Photoshop turns up and I can knock out some images to accompany our weigh in results! Week two brings the news that we have lost just shy of a stone between us in a fortnight, following the plan and indulging in the odd syn. Not bad for £10 each. Think of the money we’re saving in petrol! I based the above calculation on the average street price of a gram of coke in 2013. I once said that in response to ‘how did you lose all the weight’ – I replied hard drugs and casual sex. THAT’LL be why I didn’t win Slimmer of the Year.

In the interest of balance, this was week one. I really wanted to put ‘Paul and I have lost a baby’ but I’m a sensitive new-age man and realised that would look so crass.

Now I’ve got the weigh-in banners sorted, the plan is to post the weight losses on a Monday night and recipes and bits and pieces for the rest of the week. We must have order!

Finally, the ginger biscuits I made yesterday? 50 biscuits were turned into five packs of ten, and sold for almost a tenner each! £50 for charity. I have to admit, I was surprised and chuffed. I’d love to bake for a living, but I couldn’t – within days I’d be someone who needed to be lifted out of the house through their bedroom window on a pallet.

Tomorrow, I’m going to start Body Magic, the entirely optional bit of Slimming World where you incorporate a little bit of exercise into your day. I’m not one for exercise. I get out of breath from sweating. But needs must, I’ll be mincing across the town moor tomorrow at dawn. Newcastle, if you wake to the smell of bacon, it won’t be a romantic gesture by a loved one, no, it’ll be my thighs chaffing through my polyester mix jogging bottoms. I hope no-one confuses my flushed red-faced and mincing gait for a come-on.

If you’re enjoying the blog, please share it via facebook – I’m getting a lot more views than I anticipated and it’s truly encouraging! I adore feedback too, because I’m a big fat narcissist. More recipes tomorrow!

J

lie in, fry up

it’s the weekend, so only a quick post from me today as I have a busy day of watching UK Border Force on Sky Atlantic and giving the puppy-dog-eyes to Paul so he’ll bring me a frozen Mullerlight, load the washing, unload the washing, peg out the washing…you get the idea. Pegging in our house means nothing more than a chore.

Today’s breakfast, which was actually lunch because we got out of bed after noon like the somnolent slatterns that we are, was a one syn fry-up.

I’m not entirely sure why Paul cooked the bacon until it resembled the skin on a burnt scrotal sack, but hey ho. It’s all fairly self-explanatory, so I’ll not bother with the recipe, but:

warning: make sure your sausages are low-syn or free. Quorn low-fat sausages are syn free, others well, google is your friend but always choose the low-fat versions and work backwards from there. Your eggs can be scrambled (watch your milk allowance if you add your milk, only add cream if you’re insane, poached (syn-free) or friend (syn-free if you use frylight). Tomatoes and mushrooms all syn free of course.

second warning: don’t bother trying to actifry a weight-watchers sausage. Firstly, they taste bloody awful, and second, it’ll end up really breaking down in your actifry, and looking a bit like this. Bleurgh.

Oh delicious!

syn-free chicken korma and saag aloo: not already eaten, despite pictures indicating otherwise

A minor catastrophe this morning. Having been asked to go into work early, I find that my wonderful work colleague has kindly left me a pain au chocolat and croissant on my desk, still warm and freshly baked as compensation for the early start. Now, if I had wanted to be a rude arse, I would have declined and stuck to my banana (er, as in the fruit, not a euphemism for wanking) but because you ‘fit Slimming World into your life’ I took the pain au chocolat and enjoyed every last buttery morsel. My colleagues are used to me spraying crumbs everywhere when I talk so that was no great problem. 12 syns! But worth it. I did give my croissant away, and spent the next twenty minutes crying curled up in a foetal positions in the gents. Generosity doesn’t come easy to me! Anyway, today’s recipe.

BTW, I think Paul got sick of me shouting SAAAAAGALOOOOO like Olivia Newton-John’s Xanadu about four minutes into cooking. He should be grateful I didn’t come wheeling into the kitchen dressed in Bacofoil and wearing skates.

I apologise for the standard of photos in this recipe card. It’s quite hard to make a curry look appetising when you’re using fromage frais rather than oil! It does, unfortunately, look like someone has been sick into my Le Creuset pot. Let me tell you now, if that happened they’d find themselves detesticled quicker than you can say boiled eggs. Both the saag aloo and the korma are completely syn-free on extra easy and I’ve included the spice mixes after the recipe as they’re quite comprehensive. My favourite spice? Ginger. Wrecked the fucking group when she left, mind – Holler was NOTHING.

The full recipe can be found in Slimming World’s fakeaways recipe book, which is genuinely really good. Both the korma and saag aloo are a case of preparing the meat or potatoes, adding spices, adding stock, boiling down and for the korma, a couple of dollops of fromage frais (let the sauce cool before adding or it’ll curdle and look like a pavement pizza).

Saag aloo spices: 2tsp cumin seeds, 2tsp black mustard seeds, 1tsp cumin, 1tsp ground coriander, 1/2tsp turemic, 1/2tsp garam masala, 1/2tsp chilli powder

Korma: 1 cinnamon stick, 1tsp cardamom seeds (crushed), 1/4tsp ground cloves, 2tsp cumin seeds, 1tbsp ground coriander, 1tbsp ground cumin, 2tsp mild curry powder.

It’s worth getting yourself a good range of spices if you haven’t already. They’re a great way to add flavour without adding syns to a meal, and a small amount goes a long, long way.

warning: take heed of the warning about the fromage frais, because it looks bloody rotten if it curdles. You can still eat it but there’s no guarantee your body won’t think it’s already tried it and chucked it. Nothing else to say here, you can’t go too wrong with a curry as long as you’re not pouring bloody Gold Top into it.

extra-easy: completely syn-free. chuck it full of peppers, onion, tomatoes and chilli to boost your superfree.

double warning: Paul accidentally used red-hot chilli peppers instead of the milder version, so that’ll be me on the toilet firing a chocolate laser out of my nipsy tomorrow. Cheers love!

Enjoy!

J