send me to hell, i don't mind, better still,
put me the kitchens of hell,
i'll gladly make
mao tse-tung's favourite dish
for all eternity...
what was it?
  ah... hong shao rou -
lovely dish... but the pork belly
can't be too tender,
otherwise it will fall apart,
   it needs to be lean...
   or is that sturdy?
      who the **** allowed
       this austrian vegetarian in?!
we don't serve vegeterian
alternatives... adolf?
             it's adolf?
           *******!
   you know, i once had a flatmate,
of german descent,
  who once ordered a pizza
without cheese,
    he told me that the head chef
at the restaurant, came rushing
out the kitchen, and with a heavy-set
brood cast over his eyebrows
asking: are, you, mad?!
anyway... heaven seems like too
much of a gay pride parade...
   send me to the kitchen,
   i'll gladly replace
100 women suggested for the role
by the 1950s chauvinistic
    perception provisions, akin to:
honey, would be much better
if you cooked that dinner, dressed
in lingerie...
       my answer would come
short and sweet...      porqua?
you'll have to be more specific than
a pour cette raison with me...
     to me it just sounds like:
                        pour non raison;
this reason? what reason,
    in this kitchen there's no reason
to be ventured into...
   it is what it is,
   i'm going to be cooking
that puffy panda of a dictator his
favourite love-chops
    and you're asking me, for a reason?
**** me... there are so many
ways to gratify encouraging
the notion of eternity, outside the realm
of 72 1960s ****-pants worth of virgins...
i really don't know why they
find that notion, so appealing...
            watch some videos of the beatles...
and how exhausted they are...
gentlemen, martyrs alike...
make sure you ask for at least two ******!
how else to move through
72, if not having a foursome?
but **** me... what a work-out that
must end up being.