The Slow Cooker.....

                           

As I perused the meat section at the Bert Scroggins Bargain Butchers Emporium, my bloodshot bulbs gazed upon the ragged specimen of scrag end, which was prominently displayed adjacent to a tray of boneless inverted porky rectums. I hadn't had any porky rectums for what seemed an eternity and had manifested intense withdrawal symptoms.  My culinary thoughts immediately turned to the slow cooker that the missus had purchased from Argos in the January sale. "That deformed slab of red gristly meat, combined with porky boneless inverted rectums sure would pong nice after roasting all day," I thought. I put them in my carrier bag and began browsing for the necessary comestibles and accessories to accompany this dish. A bag of baby carrots, some hunnionz and a few choice potatoes.


   

My mouth was beginning to salivate already. I had made my purchases and headed for Scropton Street and my executive hovel. Placing the plastic carrier bag on an empty beer crate, I pulled out the slow cooker and removed the crock pot. I carefully took the wrapper off the scrag end and, ever so gently, placed  the boneless inverted porky rectums into the container. After slicing the potatoes into perfectly sized chunks, into the pot they went. I added the bag of carrots, the hunnionz and my special top secret seasoning of chitterling roulade, prior to bunging the crock pot into the refrigerator to marinade until morning.

                                           

That night my dreams were of the smells radiating from freshly cooked meat and of a wonderfully garnished roast. Anticipation awakened me in the morning. I readied myself for work and removed the crock from the refrigerator. I gazed once more at the perfect form before placing it in the cooker. I set it on low. I let out a small chortle as left for work knowing that my creation would be slow cooking all day long. The end of the work day finally came and it seemed as if it took me  forever to get back home. As I stood outside my door, my hands began to tremble with the knowledge of the delectable dish that awaited me on the other side. I  burst through the door, stepped into the house but smelled nowt whatsoever. Summat was amiss. I sauntered into the scullery. "Hmmmmmm! No condensation on the lid. This can't be right" I removed the lid. It wasn't hot! I checked the controls. "The switch is on and set for low. I do not comprehend this abstract farrago! A saturnine grimace was etched into my countenance as I gazed behind the scullery midden and quickly discovered the problem. 

The slow cooker wasn't plugged in!

                           

The missus asked me when dinner would be ready.  I shouted, "A week next Tuesday...."  as I got on the phone to Domino's....

Domino's:  "Hello, Domino's Pizza, Jason speaking, how may I help you?"
Me: "Well take a f***ing guess, Jason......"