No, this is not the start of a tedious joke, or the introduction to a little-known Olympic Sport!
It is, in fact, an orgasmic wee concoction I am wont to whip up for high days and holidays – and, since I knew I had Shadow of the Tor coming round for a rehearsal (more on this some other time) and a visit, including barbecue, to friends on Sunday, I set to and made lashings of the stuff.
Comprising condensed milk, melted chocolate, butter, icing sugar, marshmallows and, as I call them, Suggestive Biscuits, this infinitely superior version of the more mundane Rocky Road always goes down a treat – but, for a variety of tedious reasons (with which I will not trouble you), getting the finished goo into the requisite roll has long frustrated, baffled and, not to put too fine a point upon it, completely eluded me!
This time, I went at it with grim determination and, laying three large sheets of foil on the work surface, rolled the delectable gunge into a trio of fat sausage shapes. That done, and having licked my hands thoroughly – waste not, want not! – I bunged the bounteous booty in the freezer and awaited the arrival of my fellow thesps!
Come the hour, delving into the icicled department, I drew out what, in the stark light of evening, resembled nothing so much as a gargantuan todger (think whale!) sporting a truly lurid novelty condom! The damn thing looked positively indecent as I held it in my warm hands and felt it melt (just the effect I have upon such matters, ha!) – and, as I stripped off its silver lining, I felt as if I were engaged upon some particularly revolting sex act, especially as the ruddy thing – still hard in places, but sagging at the edges! – seemed to have a mind of its own.
Pornography on a plate or what!
Well, I hacked womanfully away. slicing it into think rounds (am sure there is a phallic symbolism just waiting to be discovered here somewhere!) – and, yes, sucking on my fingers as I did so, like you do – and, having fallen about laughing with the friend who could also see its resemblance to a very large membrum virile, presented it to the group, just managing to avoid sniggering out, ”Ere you go: Diced Penis!’
Its singular appearance did not detract from its inherent toothsomeness one jot – and they all got stuck in with unbridled relish!
I have a twenty mile drive with the third and final Pork Sword Lookalike – and am, currently, unsure of my tactics for serving same. There may well be children present, you see, and so my planned raucous and bawdy fondling, slurping and slicing act may cause me to be ejected from the garden forthwith! On the other hand, the temptation to go completely, and vulgarly, over the top, may well win the day anyway!
We shall see…