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Lightly Battered Twats

First off, to all American readers, it is not pronounced so that it rhymes with not, I don’t know why you do this but it is wrong, we gave you a language, please use it correctly. When pronouncing the last word of the title of this piece, lean hard into the “at.”

Secondly, any business referred to in name or by inference is not the target of this piece, no one is, it is just a jovial rant about some questionable life choices.

One night out in Manchester, myself and my mates were in a bar highly regarded by most who go to it, we had been many times but never quite so late of an evening. It was quite the student place but they have a wide range of well presented beers in keg and cask, as well as drinks offers. One offer, at the time, was 2 for 1 cocktails. Having waited at the bar for about 10 minutes and not really got much further in a 4 deep at the bar my mate turned and said “every time you hear the click of ice in a glass you can add another 5 minutes to the wait.”

I did wonder why they didn’t have a dedicated place to serve cocktails from, it was a long enough bar.

Just like a wonder who are those people who, when faced with all the cars on a narrow, two-way street with all the cars parked on the pavements (yes, yes, legalities, blah, blah) to aid the flow of traffic, simply park in the road to frustrate everyone else.

Just like Tempura. I’ve had it, I don’t get it. Why take perfectly healthy veg but then miserly coat them in something akin to a batter and then deep fry them making it all instantly unhealthy? Texture? Fuck off.

Which brings me to possibly the biggest first world problem bug bear of my life.

When you batter a fish and throw it in the deep fat, the heat from the oil steams the fish inside, cooking it. In general most of the oil goes into the batter.

Yes, yes, there are more healthy ways to cook fish but you’re in a chippy, you aren’t there for any kind of health option and if you are you’re probably also the type of person who thinks a bag of pre-cut, plastic wrapped apples balances out the Happy Meal you’ve bought for your kid. Or a diet drink balances out your 4000 calorie takeaway.

You don’t like batter? Then simply don’t eat it. Any of it, some of it, I don’t care.

Lightly battering fish instantly makes it more unhealthy than the regular way of doing it but more importantly if you chose to place your order as you walk up to the counter rather than politely shouting it out when you get into the shop you are the equivalent of the road parking pillocks.

You are not in the 10th circle of Hell. That is for those that don’t pre-order chicken nuggets, or burgers, or spam/black pudding fritters. For those that try to order something that isn’t on the menu simply because they are having a change of chippy and think they all serve the exact same stuff. And those that have to ring up someone to confirm what they wanted while they are placing the order, but I suppose the latter two didn’t get a good enough education are reading and writing aren’t seemingly part of their life skills set.

I want my Friday treat, I want the cholesterol in my arteries are quickly as possibly and I don’t know someone who thinks they are being healthy, fannying around due to a lack of forethought.

I’m only thankful that I can walk to my chippy and don’t have to negotiate the double parked roads around it.


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