Dear Chef.
That was a little too much success going for you all at once. Here, let me shove your face into a pile of stinking liquorice fueled crap to bring you back down to Earth.
Cheers, hope you're well!
The Universe.
PS. We've mailed a giant middle finger to you and you should receive it within 3 -5 working days.
Bad reviews fucking SUCK.
Because suddenly it doesn't matter that you have 34 prior good ones. Number 35 had to be someone that wanted to whinge about everything.
It's like walking up a flight of stairs in the dark and you think there's one more step than there is and for a fraction of a second, your entire world drops.
Why WHYYY did we have to get reviewed on my one night off. I just fucking replaced my fridge door from the last hissy fit I had over an overcooked confit trout.
Beside myself with emotion. Teenage girls who have caught their boyfriends macking on with their sister in the alleyway of a drunken 16th birthday don't get this upset.
Going to dance my rage away tonight at Circus. Maybe that will help...
Blah. I need tequila and a hug.
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