I know I know, I must have had my head up my backside for years. I simply didn't realize there was a version of me walking around until last night. So okay I don't have pockmarked skin and okay I'm not worth £67m, but otherwise myself and Gordon Ramsay are exactly alike!
So yesterday it happened, an epiphany! I watched Gordon Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen where fifteen chefs try and make it through torturous times with Ramsay to get a job in one of his restaurants without having their balls flambeed or their breasts clamped in a waffle iron. Comic gold!
There was one particular fat ugly little chef who I wanted to poke in the eyes, not even because he was fat and lazy but because he was the worst male chauvinist I've seen in a long time. There were two teams, men and women, and when the women's team won, fat chef had to say: "I can't believe this! The only thing I want to lose to a woman is an ironing contest." He also said, "If I win this competition I will be beating women off with a stick." I immediately thought "Oh dear. Oh dear. Not likely, mate."
But who I really want to talk about is Ramsey. He is so wonderful. These chefs were taking three hours just to prepare appetizers, so why shouldn't he give them an earful? And he did:
"Oh fuck me! Oh fuck me senseless! It’s way too peppery and you wouldn’t serve it to a fucking pig! It’s rancid! You’ll kill someone! This is rubber!" he said, bouncing some fried chicken off the walls.
Why is he so angry? Is it the old story of the small penis and man trying to compensate? I think not, because Ramsay is 6' 2", with size-15 feet.
He is married to a woman called Cayetana Elizabeth Hutcheson and the couple have four children: Megan, twins Jack and Holly, and Matilda.
I couldn't help wondering how he is at home.
"Oh for fuck's sake Holly, fuck me sideways you've got a C on your report card again! Megan this toast you've made me is fucking burnt. I wouldn't feed this to my cat!"
Or what about Ramsey in bed:
"Oh Cayetana, you fucking twat. I told you to bring me the KY. FUCK. I've just rubbed this cream all over my dick and now I find its Deep Heat and my fucking knob is burning away. You stupid bitch. I was going to fuck you into next week but now you can go sleep on the sofa, you cow."
The thing is if I didn't control myself I would be effing and blinding all over the shop especially first thing in the morning. But Gordon gets away with it because he's a perfectionist and a genius cook. So the thing is, I would be allowed to drop F-bombs all over myself if I was passionate about something. So okay, right now I'm not passionate about anything except for maybe making a twat of myself on youtube videos. But what do you reckon? Give me a passion and I swear I'll get passionate about it and then I'll have carte blanche to swear until I'm blue in the face. Result.
Also, if you like dirty dog stories I've a great one for you here. This is totally true, I swear!
Who am I? Displaced Londoner now living in the States with my two little girlies and long suffering husband. Co-author of hilarious parenting book Cocktails at Naptime www.cocktailsatnaptime.com
My mom's an Austrian, my dad's a Brit, which makes me a Britaustrian, or possibly an Austrish?