I'd like to teach the world to cook...

"Too many cooks spoil the broth!" says Texan-born transvestite, Fanny Love, "I simply adore British cookery, especially the modern shit.  My greatest inspiration was Fanny Cradock, who brought glamour to the kitchen.  Cradock championed the ambitious housewife with dinner-party delights in the dowdy post-war years before being crowned the doyenne of televised cookery.  She sadly passed away on 27 December 1994, 18 years ago to this very day.  In memory of Fanny Cradock, tune in to see me, Fanny Love, present Cook Along With Fanny, an exotic orgy of food, shot live from my English mansion".

Fanny Cradock:

She even had the same first name as me,

Like me, she loved the finer things in life, often wearing a ball-gown in the kitchen

Also like me, she had an aversion to the usage of Estuarine English and always strove to speak using Received Pronunciation

VOICEOVER: In a bid to outdo foul-mouthed Gordon Ramsay's Christmas Day Cookalong, Fanny Love presents a live TV cookery show, Cook Along With Fanny, a modern-day re-imagining of Texan-English cuisine, broadcast today at 11am on Channel 666.  Join an estimated worldwide audience of 900 billion.

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 In keeping with my idiosyncratic dress style (the paparazzi describe my dress sense as "like Alice in Wonderland on acid"), I've chosen to wear a 19th century pale-pink gown with delicate fretwork, pictured here. The 24-strong film crew are setting up in the kitchens. It's 6am. I've just gulped down an Alkaseltzer, a double gin and tonic, followed by a Valium to calm my frayed nerves.

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Lights. Camera. Action.

This morning I'll be showing the nation how to cook traditional British favourites.

For Toad in the Hole - a traditional main dish with a crust of Yorkshire pudding batter - you'll need flour, eggs, half a pint of milk, some Bisto gravy, and the main ingredient, a common garden toad, usually found in abudance in damp areas, such as a pond or on Hampstead Heath.

For the classical recipe, Toad in the Hole, always use a freshly-collected toad.
If you prefer, fricasséed toad can also be purchased in tins from posh delicatessens like Primark.

Secondly, I'll be making delicacies such as Spotted Dick surprise (a recipe for which I've been breeding snails), Bubble and Squeak with anchovy-flavoured ice cream, an orange cake with Branston Pickle icing, chocolate mixed with cod roe, parsnip brownies and plain pancakes with just a dash of liver, and chocolate spread sandwiches (with some taramosalata).

For gourmet lovers, I'll be showing you how to prepare:

Spam Birds - yum yum, one of Fanny's favourites before a night of wild sex.

 A banana and pineapple Candle Salad on a soft bed of lettuce

An emerald Jelo dessert flavoured with toffee and armistice; apparently Jelo was often consumed on the flight of Apollo 11, the first mission to land on the Moon.  Jelo is also a great remedy for chronic constipation!

A celebratory medley of doughnut-and-honey cake topped with a tower made from a strawberry and guinea fowl purée; 

fluffy cinnamon macaroons dyed red with cochineal food colouring; 

orange peel and Brussel sprout fondants; 

and Flamingo whipped butter and beetroot whirls.

A cucumber Jelo soufflé with blended asparagus and chick peas

"A Texan Tea Cake" also known as A Bird's Eye potato waffle,
garnished with sardines, olives and orange-flavoured toothpaste with a walnut and Béchamel sauce jus.

Spotted Dick, a British favourite

 
Finally, dear viewer, Christmas isn't Christmas without the traditional Roast Turkey.   This year, I'm going to be stuffing the butterball turkey with oysters and glazing with a thick Crème de menthe sauce.

 

This butterball turkey was purchased from a local farm, although they forgot to pluck the bird properly and I spent all night smearing the thing in Veet Hair Removal cream to get the hair off.

 A Godsend for hairy butterball turkeys that haven't been fucked properly.  

Sorry, it's the gin talking --- PLUCKED properly.

 
"FUCK ME ... (uttered on live air)... those gin and tonics are strong... who mixed them?"

Whilst stuffing the bird with oysters, I suddenly felt one of my diamond rings slip off, and then realised with a shock that it was lost deep inside the bird.  Pulling my hand out of the turkey's derrière in a panic, I accidentally knock over a bottle of cooking oil, which spreads all over the marble kitchen floor.  

"Ooops.. butter fingers!" I mouth to the camera.

 By now, the room is starting to spin, I suppose due to the mixture of triple-strength gin and tonic and Valium.  

One step backwards on the oily marble in my 12" stilettos and I'm flying headfirst towards the turkey.  Moments later, the whole world goes black and I have a nasty, all-encompassing smell of poultry in my nostrils, although I'm not sure where I am.  I seem to be in a very close, dark place.

The camera cuts to me sometime later, lying prone and as pissed as a coot on the gold-encrusted Ottoman chaise-longue.   Here is the final shot of me before the credits roll, streamed live to billions of people around the world.