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 Apr 2015
Edna Sweetlove


Le Grand Restaurant Gastronomique
de Monsieur Merde


Rue Ordure des Anges 69
Conville-le-*****
96969 France


**************

NOTRE­ MENU DU JOUR

~ €500 par personne tout compris ~



LE COCKTAIL DE LA MAISON
"Champagne aux vomissements de chat"
[A giant flute of the finest Cristal champagne with a spoonful of puréed pedigree cat's *****, served with our unique world-famous warm amuse-gueule of fricasséed feline *****]
~

PREMIÈRE ENTRÉE À VOTRE CHOIX
"Le potage aux asperges extra spécial"
[Cream of over-ripe asparagus soup with roasted toads' eyeballs, served chilled, accompanied by our unique home-made nostril pickings "petits chips"]
ou
"Couilles pissées plein d'amour"
[Raw bulls' testicles from organically bred animals, removed whilst the creatures are still alive, thus ensuring none of the precious ******* juice is wasted, lovingly marinated by the head chef, in triple-concentrated bovine ***** from our own Charentais herd of rare endangered species ****** cattle]
~

DEUXIÈME ENTRÉE DU CHEF
"Flegme des Dieux"
[A classic "Monsieur Merde" dish: bite-size deep-frozen gobbets of fatally-ill consumptives' phlegm deep-fried in ape ******-flavoured batter, served in a priceless 19th century silver spittoon, with a loganberry coulis on the side]
ou
"Ravioli al vermi semi-freddo alla Pectinale"
[A rare Sicilian dish re-imagined by Monsieur Merde: each "raviolo" of home-made egg pasta contains a living lukewarm baby earthworm, served with our secret "Sauce Mongol stupide", on a bed of wilted coriander leaves and crispy fried freshly-harvested Sicilian ****** nuns' ***** hairs]*
~

LE GRAND PLAT DU M. MERDE
"Girafe à naître, Sauce utérus"
[Roasted whole unborn baby giraffe, with spicy womb-lining sauce, served with pommes purées with a touch of female rhino ***** and Dijon mustard]
~

NOTRE PLÂTEAU DES FROMAGES MALODORANTS
"Assortiment révoltant"
[Selected personally by M. Merde, guaranteed to contain a wide selection of pure-bred, hand-reared, green Géant Normandy maggots]
~

LE GRAND CHARIOT DE DESSERTS
"L'Héraut de la pompe stomicale"
[Including our signature dish "Crap Suzette", wafer-thin slices of vintage dried elephant dung flamed in 1895 VSO *** Napoleon Cognac]
~
LE CAFÉ et LES PETITS FOURS
"Sélection dysenterie tropicale"
~

Les prix comprennent nos vins selectionés "de la Maison de Merde":

Avec vos "starters" et les entrées: Château Pisse de Cheval 1994
[a full Chardonnay flavour with a hint of rampant stallion's ****]

Avec Le Grand Plat du M. Merde: Beaujolais Villages Supérieur 2006
[a powerful and fruity wine with a refreshing bouquet not unlike unwashed Olympic wrestlers' sweat-drenched armpits]

Avec les fromages: Château Foûtre 1988
[one of the most potent wines in oenological history, with a kick like a hippo's ****]

Et avec le dessert: 1946 Greek Muscat from the island of Shittos
[matured in Turkish goats' bladders to enhance its sweetness]

Bon Appétit!

*If our respected clients would like to sit near to the door to the toilets, please ask the Maître d'Hôtel for assistance, but please note there is a €25 surcharge per person for this much sought-after privilege and advance booking is normally necessary, so please be prepared to ******* if these seats are not available.
 Mar 2015
Edna Sweetlove
All the world's a *******,
And all the lads and ladettes mere defecators,
Gratifying oozing exits and entrances;
And one man perforce enacts too many roles,
His acts being seven deaths. D'abord, the baby,
******* and ******* on his mummy's frock.
Then, the errant truant with his rucksack
And pock-marked ******'s face, creeping like death
Foul-trouser'dly to school. Next a teenager,
Panting like mad dog, with an oozing pustule
Dripping oe'r his girlfriend's pubics. Then a hoodie,
Full of strange oaths, and dressed up like a freak,
Lacking in honour, decency, and up for aggro,
Seeking the respect of loathsome peers
Even on the street corner. And then the adult
With bulging beer belly, and ample burgers stuff'd,
With eyes dulled by unfulfilled promises,
Mortgaged to the hilt, and indebted to Visa,
And so he wastes his life. The sixth age dawns
Before he knows it, bald futility,
With ****** in pocket, five quid a pill,
His youthful hopes well ****'d, the world too much
For his ignorance, and his vain butch rantings
Reverting soon to teenage curses, coughs
And tobacco'd wheezings. Last we see him,
Ending a pointless and useless existence,
Clutching to his ****-stained Zimmer frame,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans pension fund.
Yes! It's the melancholy Jaques' speech from "As You Like It" as re-imagined by me, the ****** Edna.

— The End —