Thursday, 2 July 2009

Coming Clean

I can't carry on this pretence any more. The last blog was made up. There are no lorries queueing up outside Casa Combo before scattering off to vegetable markets all over northern Italy. Battered Iveco minibuses, each with a pederastic gangmaster and crew of underage illegals don't pitch up to pick the vegetables at four in the morning. Armani's PA doesn't scream down the 'phone to the Maitre d' at La Conca d'Oro in Milan "If you don 'ave ze zucchini flowers of Meester Combo zen Signor Giorgio say you go fuck youself!!!"*
I made it all up. I'm sorry, but I've been trying to give myself some self-worth after some hideous weekends of alcoholic excess, capped off by a virtuoso performance at The Pig Party in a local village on Saturday evening/night/Sunday morning.
There I've come out. From now on, no more fabricated stories, no more wild flings of fantasy.

This is the real truth. A plastic crate of assorted veggies for a local restaurant. Total income: €11.40. I feel better already. Maybe a snifter would be in order? I mean, it's nearly time for luncheon.

* Exactly what I thought. Why on earth would she speak in English with a stereotypical cod Italian accent? Beats me.


Toby Savage said...

Looks delicious Ron. I've had my first two courgettes up here in the frozen north of Europe. Not a bean in sight yet, but I live in hope for next week. Plants look good.

Vinogirl said...

A fair sized crop.

Affer said...

Another spoof! I know for a fact you are Whole Foods Market's main supplier. But don't be ashamed of success Ron - we know it won't change you, and we won't all write you begging letters!

ps: any chance of a tenner?

Peter Ashley said...

Please can I have those scales when you've done with them? Unless they're in kilos or whatever it is.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Speaking faultless English with a stereotypical cod Italian accent is exactly what I shall be doing on arrival in Rimini tomorrow. I shall keep it up for three days or so before assuming the identity of a cheerless Bavarian to put everyone at their ease.

Your veg looks a bit wilted, and I imagine it is covered in a fine, grey grit. I don't know why, but I do.

Ron Combo said...

The grey grit is from the local cement factory, just over the hill. Trust you to blow the whistle, Clarissa (that nearly rhymed!). God I'm pissed.