I enjoy gobbling down caviar. Don't you? I'm not talking about the cheap crap that Lidl are currently peddling for £1.69! For me, it's Beluga, always. Little black balls of love, I call them, presented in a dark-blue tin with gold emboss all the way from Russia, usually costing around £2,500 per tin - a rare, decadent delicacy, as scintillating as sex.
When I entered the larder this morning, I screamed "Quelle horreur" in anguish at the realisation that the caviar was all gone - not a pot anywhere in the house, and so none for breakfast. What was I to do?
I grabbed a pair of binoculars and spied my neighbour's well-stocked fishing lake. Lady Battenburg-Windsor-Rump-Python-Coningsby is her name, and I cannot be bothered socialising with her or even remembering her ridiculous penta-barrelled name, as she is merely cheap, nouveau riche trash.
Ten minutes later, if anybody had been looking, they might have seen me wearing this racy swimsuit beside her fishing lake with a net in my mouth.
In the blink of an eye, I plunged into the freezing water and spotted a huge adult sturgeon fish lurking at the murky bottom. The thing put up a lot of fight, but I snagged the fish in the net, climbed out of the lake, made a run for it, somersaulting over the hedge across my extensive grounds to the kitchens with the slippery fish in tow.
The picture below best describes what I did next, aided by a plastic drinking straw which I was momentarily able to allow to leave my glass of gin n tonic:
Fish preparation techniques from world renowned gastronome, Fanny Love: Removing caviar the simple way. Just grab any old sturgeon fish from your neighbour's pond, shove a drinking straw up its orifice and suck for England! You will soon be rewarded with caviar.
Whilst startled at the striking resemblance of the sturgeon fish to my maid, Belladonna (they both have the same bottom-feeder physical qualities), I sucked away with the drinking straw trying to extract some caviar from the damned thing. All the fish did was wriggle around.
Alas, the whole plan backfired (quite literally) when the fish flicked its tail, gave me a look of utter disdain, and released its bowels all over my face.