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The GofChef Cooking Show

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Sir Les

Today The Bucket welcomes senior English Expression students from Sir Les Patterson’s  Finishing School for Refined Young Ladies. They will be attempting to sniff out a few subtle examples of sarcasm which I have delicately and almost imperceptibly woven into the fabric of the following story.

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One of the most magnificent achievements of Australia’s technological development during the last 60 years must surely be it’s commercial free-to-air television network.

John Logie Baird and Philo Farnsworth probably whack their decomposing crania into the lids of their coffins in unison on the hour, every hour of every day, attempting to provide standing ovations for what we have done with their inventions.

101 reasons why I  love commercial television;

(Marry me if you want to hear all 101…..here’s some samples;)

#11.  Impartial political reporting.

#22.  Unbiased science-based commentaries focussing on the ecological health of our planet and an emphasis on good-news stories whilst doggedly resisting all the sensational alternatives.

#39.  Andie MacDowell is pure poetry in motion as she flounces her bouncy unreal L’oreal tresses in my face nineteen times daily……for the twentieth year in a row. She is the inspiration for my own utterly gorgeous coiffure.

#48.  The sincerity and genuine concern for my personal health shown by infomercial presenters.  For example, it is truly humbling that George Foreman is worried about the condition of my arteries and that Justin Beiber with all his worldly experience has discovered a miraculous cure for my dodgy skin complexion costing just $30 per month for the rest of my life.

#51.  The American chick with the foghorn motor-mouth who urges me to rotate myself back and forth and round and round on an AbCircle Pro machine until I’m so giddy that I will probably need to seek refuge by disappearing up into my own cloaca is such a joy to have as company in my living room every evening.

#66.  The sheer genius of modern television technicians who have the abilty to superimpose advertising graphics over critical moments in a game of football and the dirty bits of movies, along with the magic of compressing film credits down to the unreadable bottom one inch of the screen in order to fit Katy Perry and her gaping massive rampant pustular exploding zits into the top 21 inches.

#99  Shy and sensitive, quietly spoken introverted Scary Spice  hosting Dancing With the Stars and advertising Jenny Craig.

All in all I have only one tiny criticism of commercial TV stations;

They broadcast an insufficient number of cooking shows.

(At this point my dear reader, if you’re still here, it may well have occurred to you that there is a very thin line indeed which separates a higher-education tutorial for girls and………well……
just an old-fashioned rant.)

I wish to address this programming deficiency by submitting a pilot for my very own cooking show which I expect will probably be snapped up for syndication by at least one of the major Australian networks before it inevitably gains global recognition.

The script for Episode One follows…..this is my very own favourite French recipe.

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Dauphin a la Buckeť

The following quantities will serve an entire convention of my blog friends…..you are all cordially invited to gather around my garden fountain (which features a life-size marble statue of Elle MacPherson dressed up as an Eskimo) on June 31st this year.

Ingredients;

One medium-sized dauphin  (at the time of writing I recommend fresh product from the Gulf of Mexico….remove head, fins, tail and all cancerous lesions before filleting)
Seven medium knobs of rasta.
Thirty one fresh unpeeled green gumptions.
Two lacks of daisical.
One large lump of Scary Spice.
Essence of Clostridium. (often difficult to source, but try your local Indian restaurant)

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Marinate the fillets overnight in Bolivian sombrero sauce into which the knobs of rasta have been finely grated and gently stirred.

Saute the fillets lightly before popping them into a Blasco saucepan (preferably with a glaspol lid) then sprinkle the diced (6mm) gumptions and daisicals on top with a clockwise movement of your right hand. Cook in a moderate industrial blast furnace for 20 minutes.
 
While waiting, please humanely tie up that unpalatable Scary Spice   like a turkey ready for basting, stuff it in a hessian sack and send it back to the United Kingdom where it belongs.  

Plate-up the dish with gastronomic flair (four or five sprigs will do) then drizzle one tablespoon of clostridium essence over the top.

Serve with an audacious racy little Madonna Merlot.

Bon apetit.

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Now if you’ll just excuse me, I need to take a Xanax and have a good lie down.  Please wake me up when Scary Spice is safely (or otherwise) back in England.

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Vive la difference

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Lady GaGa is the latest non-conforming popular music artist to challenge the conventionality of the genre.

She joins in history others like Madonna, KISS, The Village People and The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, all of whom dared to link the music with creative drama and theatrical performance.

I do not especially like the music of any of them, but the world would be a much more dreary and bland place without them.

I wish this newcomer well, hoping she can keep her head screwed on, whilst not believing all her own publicity, and avoiding all the industry parasites who inevitably attempt to feed off new young talent.

A tall order indeed for a 23 year old.

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Beauty and the beasts

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Satirical lyricist Tom Lehrer during a concert tour 50 years ago urged his audience to adopt a social "cause"  to make society a better place in which to live.  He went on to describe how his own particular cause was "smut" and that he was in favor of it.  A bold stance indeed during the 1950's when a strict censorship regime was in place.  A committee dominated by God-fearing narrow-minded puritans was given the right to determine what the majority of other adults could read, hear or see.
 
During the 1960's radio stations were not permitted to broadcast the word "bloody" which frequently appeared in the lyrics of the popular Red Baron Song.  The "good old days" did have some redeeming qualities, but freedom of information was not among them.

Happily those times have passed, yet occasionally I am reminded of Western societies continuing reluctance to admire, acknowledge and respect the healthy human body as something of great beauty and functional wonder.

Producers of "Survivor" on television this year felt the need to consistently and annoyingly block out vision of individual contestants as soon as any small amount of "butt cleavage" threatened to reveal itself from within the bounds of clothing.

Following the conclusion of each Survivor episode, the same television station then went on to show a half hour of "news" with uncensored vision of victims of war, dead and shattered bodies, including children, followed by 3 hours of crime drama depicting humans being abused, raped, shot, stabbed, decapitated, dissected and post-mortemed…..all in the name of entertainment.

This is the true obscenity of our time.

Television in general seems totally obsessed with ensuring we never see vision of the female breast  (and, shame on me for even mentioning the word "nipples")  as though it was something hideous and disgusting, and likely to lead our civilisation into moral decline.  A very large number of us grew up with some quite intimate knowledge and appreciation of the human breast from a young age. 

By what standards of twisted morality are we on one hand permitted to view explicit images of the atrocities of war and yet on the other hand live in a society which still makes women feel uncomfortable about breast feeding their babies in public?
We are apparently still forbidden in 2008 to view one (well a matching pair actually) of the most visually beautiful and magnificently functional parts of the human body, without resorting to R rated material.

The well-cared-for human body is a thing of wonder, beauty, grace-in-movement, and if I am to have a "cause" then it would be to have it depicted tastefully, respectfully, non-pornographically, and artistically more often in the public arena.   Perhaps, just perhaps, that might even dissuade some who would otherwise be inclined to inflict violence upon it. 

(Ed;  The Bucket has a contractual obligation to publish most of whatever literary trash is thrown into it.   Whilst it could be interpreted that GOF simply wants to see more bums and boobs shown on his television, we accept that his primary motivation is to draw attention to this peculiar aberration in our accepted standards of morality.)

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