Monday, February 14, 2011


I can't wait until I'm an old person. Based on a number of experiences I've had recently and not-so-recently, here is what I imagine I'll be able to do when I'm old. It seems that when you hit about 60, you become automatically entitled to do a whole world of things which are otherwise unacceptable.

The most common and probably the most infuriating of all these things has to be

If I had a dollar for every time some old cow shoved her way in front of me in a line, I'd be a millionaire. I'd at least be able to repay my debts to StudyLink. It happened the other day at the supermarket. I'd been waiting very patiently at the deli counter while some other old tart finished off, and when the person behind the counter called "next please", this awful old hag appeared out of nowhere and started ordering! Instead of forcing her into the meat slicer as I should have done, I flicked her aside with a curt "I believe I was next. Being old doesn't mean you get to skip queues".

I'm English. Queuing is the national sport in England, and as such I take it very seriously.

If I don't draw a picture of me putting an old lady in the meat slicer I think I'll be lynched.

It happened again when I recently saw Tim Finn in concert. As the encore began, I couple of scaly old prostitutes ruined my opportunity to call for Shark Attack by pushing right in behind me, in front of my friend Alison. Words were exchanged and they eventually buggered off to the back, probably for another sherry. Seriously, the number of middle-aged/old people at that concert who only got out once a year was staggering. A lady behind us got so drunk that she was grinding on her 40-something speccy accountant husband for all to see. Put it away.

So basically, when I'm old, I'll get to the front of every line, be able to stand on the wrong side of the escalator, should loudly at shop attendants, get my shopping bags carried to the car for me, not have to say please or thank-you (seriously, and they say that TEENAGERS are rude? They're dreaming!), block the footpath with my huge shopping bags, and live the life of luxury in retirement villages. Ohh it sounds like the life! I guess I'll need it after the debauched mid-life crisis that I'll inevitably have.

Shame everyone hates old people, though.

Saturday, February 5, 2011


I've now been working in Melbourne long enough to have come to the sad realisation that customers here are every bit as stupid as those in New Zealand - perhaps even more so. It doesn't help that right now, with it being holiday season, the city is positively crawling with pests, more commonly known as Americans.

I don't know how most Americans are allowed outside without minders. I am aware that not ALL Americans are mind-bogglingly stupid - I once had an American lecturer who was one of the smartest people I've ever come across. However, America, these tourist ambassadors you keep sending to Australia are not doing you any favours.

Actually, I was just reminded of the time that Dad and I were walking down the main street of Browns Bay in New Zealand behind a typical American father and daughter. I mean, if I had the strongest microscope in the world I still wouldn't have been able to find this guy's cock. His crappy plastic daughter asks him if she can go to some crappy fast-food outlet, which I've long since forgotten the name of. Anyway, it doesn't exist in New Zealand because we all still have somewhat refined taste buds there. The micropenis of a father responds with this:

"No honey, they don't have that here. Remember, you're in a third-world country now!"

Excuse me?!

Look, see, there's even a Starbucks!

You can tell just by looking that someone is an American. So obviously, every time one of them enters my workplace, I die a little bit inside, even before they open their mouths. I've had several of them ask for extra whipped cream on their coffee. We don't put whipped cream in our coffee. We don't even have whipped cream in our shop. That's fucking disgusting. One day I just responded with "no, we don't have whipped cream. Here in Australia, we don't feel the need to disguise every flavour under the sun with half a pound of sugar". Obviously she just looked at me blankly.

OH YES AND. I recently learnt a shocking fact. I was on the plane and reading the crappy airline magazine, and I came across an article about "Australian cuisine in America". I made some offhand comment to the boyfriend along the lines of "Australian cuisine? What, a pie and sauce? Lol lol lol!" However, I read on, and discovered that the humble meat pie is indeed a rare and unusual specimen for these Americans! I don't understand. I shall now consider THEM a third-world country - as we know, all the best countries have meat pies. (Please, if you're an American reading this and you DO know what a meat pie is, please speak up so I don't lose all my faith in humanity). I mean, you'd think a meat pie would be PERFECT for the greasy, fatty American "cuisine". 

Anyway, I've had enough of bitching about Americans. They may be a special kind of stupid, but we have some quite remarkable douches in Australia as well. These are all true stories, no hyperbole.

We have very clear labeling in our shop. All our food is displayed in cabinets - one warm, for pies and sausage rolls, and one cool. There is absolutely no indication that there is any more food than what is right in front of the customer. We have no extra menus, no other counters, no obvious kitchen. We have eight flavours of pie, clearly labeled like so: 

However, at least 2 in 5 customers will peer at the pies for aeons, then look up and say "I'll have a steak and mushroom please". 



Next thing: PLEASE be specific. Saying "one meat pie, please" or "a pie and a coffee, please" is not going to get you anywhere. All our pies have meat except for one. So when I give you say, a Thai chicken curry pie and a short macchiato, don't look at me all confused and say "but I wanted a steak pie and a latte!" Next time, why don't you say that? That would make things easier for all of us. Oh god but yesterday, this woman comes in a says "a drink, please".


Turned out she wanted a strawberry milkshake. She conveyed this through a vague hand gesture. I think I'm psychic. And she wins an award I just made up:

It's the vague award and it's the colour of mushrooms and sadness. Enjoy.

I could go on all day about the general twatty things customers do. But I won't, so here's a quick list of the lowhighlights.

  1. There is obviously a counter. Don't come around the side, or worse, INSIDE the work area.
  2. If I'm obviously busy in the back, don't try and jump the queue and place an order with me. There's clearly a person taking orders at the front. 
  3. Of course the pies are hot. Can't you feel the warmth radiating from that warmer you're standing right in front of?
  4. "One chicken toasted sandwich please. Can you toast it?" No, I think I'll freeze it.
  5. "Raisin toast please. Can I have it toasted?" No, I'm just going to kill you.
  6. "Small or large?" "Medium". Did I say "small, medium or large?" I think not.
Those are all general things - many, many customers do all of the above every day. However, some customers are just a cut below all the rest. Some deserve a special individual mention.

Bag lady

This woman is something else. She's a regular customer, though thankfully no longer regular on my shift. Hopefully I scare her or something. Anyway, every time it's the same: in her awful nasal voice, she demands a small weak cappuccino with four sugars, along with a glass of tap water. I'll bring it out to her, trying hard not to breathe in when I get close to her, and go back behind the counter and count to 10. One (or both) of these two things will invariably happen. Either the coffee will "taste funny", in which case I will take it away and make exactly the same thing, which she will declare to be "lovely". She will then insist on telling me exactly how lovely it was multiple times, often when I'm serving other customers.

When she leaves, I will go and collect her cup with a sense of dread and foreboding. Sure enough, the coffee will be all over the table, and the 3259348570 napkins she has scattered over the table won't have absorbed any of the mess. Seriously, there isn't that much coffee in a small cup. Does she bring her own in a hip-flask or something? Oh yeah, and the other thing she enjoys is to pour the coffee from the cup into the saucer, and drink it out of the saucer. Like this:

Pastry problems

This man is one of my favourites. And by "favourite", I mean he made me want to stick my head in the oven. He came in and stood in front of the pie warmer for ages, staring at it with the most confused expression on his face. On that side of the counter is the pie warmer, and up above that there is a room-temperature section with croissants and danishes. All of these things are very clearly labelled.

After a while, I feel this is getting ridiculous, so I ask him if he needs any help. He looks up at me, confused expression all intact, and asks me "are these the pies?" This would have been bad enough if he had actually been pointing at the pies, but no. He was pointing at the CROISSANTS. This man needs special help. Perhaps a handy chart, like this:

Food recognition issues

This man pissed me off even before he hit his stupidity climax by asking for "a meat pie". I sighed and asked "chunky steak or mince beef?" He looked at me blankly. "Steak and what?" he says. "Mince." To which he responds with

"What's mince?"

WHAT. He had to be kidding. How can you be a mid-40s Australian and not know what MINCE IS. I just responded with "...mince. I actually can't explain it any further than that. Mince."

He ordered the chunky steak. 

The number of stupid customer stories obviously grows by the day, but time is limited! To round off, here is a list of handy tips for customers visiting my work:

  1. Please read the menu. That will cover all your product and price enquiries.
  2. We're a pie shop. We do not sell Chinese dim sims, pizzas, pastas or salads (all real requests).
  3. We're a pie shop. Nothing here is healthy. Don't even ask me that.
  4. I'm in here. The door is open and the lights are on. OF COURSE WE'RE OPEN.
Finally, I don't want to give the misleading impression that every customer coming in has the intelligence of a very stupid slug. There are a few regular customers who just make my day. I thank you for saving me from sticking my head in the oven halfway through each shift.

Coming soon: Stories from the dark days of the supermarket.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Why I am better than Stephen King

Recently, I have been told by a number of people that they actually read this blog, think it is lovely and wonderful, and want me to post more crappy pictures. However, my problem is that I have many unfinished posts waiting to see the light of day which I just can't make into proper long posts. So I'm going to do something drastic (not really). Remember when Stephen King was releasing a bunch of shitty novels, like Cell and Lisey's Story, but then he released a book of short stories that were really good, and then after that his novels became good too? I'm going to try that. Welcome to the Stephen King method of blogging. Except I don't think Stephen King illustrates his short stories. OH WELL. This is why I'm more awesome than Stephen King.

01. A tribute to Vlad

The most recent person to say that I should post a new story was Vlad from Since he seems to actually like my posts, I thought I might draw him a picture. Since he's never posted a picture of himself on the Superthread, I thought I'd draw one of him, so that we can at least all have the same image in my mind. Until he posts one, this is what we'll all think of when we think of Vlad.

I really tried to draw a glorious motherland bear in the background of this picture, but alas:

What even is that. It looks like a fucking hand puppet. And that red thing is meant to be its mouth, not a slash wound/vagina.

Anyway, tribute to glorious motherland Vlad! We drink much vodka and borscht in his honour!

02. The creepy Liberal candidate for the Victorian election

His name is actually Ted Baillieu. He ran a woefully uninspiring ad campaign for the Victorian election (which it actually looks like he's won, boo and nay). This ad campaign consisted of him standing there and the words "Vote Liberal". See:

However, the boyfriend and I reckon that it's actually quite clever after all. The undertones are all in his facial expression. Do you see what I'm getting at here? This guy is fucking creepy.

You get the idea, right? Implied. Very clever, isn't he?

Bloody paedophile.

UPDATE! I just saw this on The Age! I think he just did flash someone, and he is very VERY happy.

One of the other candidates for my electorate was equally terrifying. She used the same picture for every single ad. Does this woman here inspire confidence in you, or does she look like she's about to eat your family, your pets and everyone you've ever loved?

Ahhh! I'll never sleep again!

Of course, the ALP candidate for Melbourne itself is called Bronwyn Pike. Her election slogan?


How long did that take you to come up with? No, seriously, I would have never ever have thought of that by myself. Well done.

I just wanted to change all the billboards to read "I like pie".

Speaking of which:

03. In work news ...

For those who came in late, I work in a pie shop and I start at stupidly early o'clock.

Now, at work, we offer an upgrade with your pie. For two dollars more, you can get your delicious pie turned into death and sadness served with mashed potato, peas and gravy on top.

As much as I love mashed potato and gravy, they do not belong on top of a pie! Peas, on the other hand, don't belong anywhere. Ew, peas. Anyway! Generally, if you wanted to know if a customer wanted this, you'd ask something like "would you like mashed potato, peas and gravy on top of your pie?", wouldn't you? Well, some of my staff member don't have quite the right idea. They think this is appropriate:


Other than that, customers are fairly uninteresting. Though there is the guy who comes in almost every day, asks repeatedly if we have curry pies, then goes on about how "it's only 9:30, way to early for a pie!" and then hangs around for ages asking for curry pies. One day he is actually going to leave without a face.

04. As if I didn't learn my lesson the first time ...

Many of you will remember the post in which I tried Russian-style tea. Obviously this didn't end well, and I vowed never to drink awful foreign teas ever again. However, as part of the amazing Crowded House trip, we stayed in a beautiful hotel in Brisbane. They gave us a lot of complimentary teas. Thanks to my morbid curiosity and my natural instinct to take everything in hotel rooms that isn't actually nailed down, the teas came home with me. There was a selection - Earl Grey, peppermint, green tea and chamomile. I made the Earl Grey for the boyfriend and he actually liked it! That's weird, because here is how Earl Grey tea is made:

Anyway. I never tried the green tea - I left that for my friend Helen to have when she visited me - but I did brave both the peppermint tea and the chamomile.

The peppermint tea was just all kinds of wrong. Another friend of mine described it quite accurately as drinking boiled mouthwash. She wasn't far off. I couldn't even get through a quarter of it! At least it cleared my sinuses - it was also akin to Vicks vapo-rub - but for fuck's sake, does anybody ever actually drink that shit voluntarily? If so, WHY?

As for the chamomile, well, it just tasted of nothing to be quite honest. I put honey in it and it was marginally better - I actually managed to finish it this time. But still! My quest to find a good herbal or fruit tea still remains futile. They smell of everything and taste of nothing. If you love being continually disappointed, herbal tea is for you, I suppose.

05. And finally, the news you've all been wanting - shit buildings update

Recently (and by recently I could mean anything from "yesterday" to "in 2008"), I made two extensive blog entries about all the weird and shitty buildings around where I live. Since then, I've found out a couple of things.

First of all, the Patra House. I am VERY let down. It really does just seem to be a club for Greek people from the Patras region. Still, the rather intimidating "Members Only" sign still arouses suspicion in me. How the fuck DO you become a member anyway? Also, I had a dream a couple of nights ago that the Patra House was actually a bar and they were doing $5 jugs. Stay classy.

In other more important news, remember the shitty drug house? Yeah. Guess what? The fucking thing is for sale. That's not the big thing though. The big thing is how much they want for it.

Just look at that piece of shit! We couldn't believe it. It was originally up for auction, but now seems to be up for sale proper. Ok, I know that's a bloody big plot of land and all that, but $1.5 million? WOW. Also, click here for a big version of that picture. I want you to be able to see all the shit in the back garden properly.

So there you have it! Hopefully, by the Stephen King theory mentioned above, my next post will be just phenomenal. Hopefully I managed to create one before the end of the year (how the fuck did THAT happen, by the way!) Until next time, enjoy this huge collection of turds.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Oh my fucking god I win at life.

Since last time:

Well, the last time I started writing a blog entry proper, I received a phone call from New Zealand informing me that my grandma had passed away, so I popped back home for a bit. Though the circumstances weren't the greatest, it was still lovely to be back. I even managed to catch up with Lena for a bit, and had a massive love explosion all over her face.

When I returned, well, I can't remember if I posted before about how my work had been messing me around. Basically, I was hired in August and was told that I would be starting in mid-September, when the store was due to open. Do you want to know when I started? Do you really?

October 29th.

So I'm bloody poor and stressing hard about having to pay my uni fees upfront next year. Oh well, such is life. I'm sure I'll get by somehow.

Other things happened also, but let's get all this preamble out the way so that I can tell you about one of the best trips of my life. Yeah, italics means Serious Business.


I fucking love Crowded House. They're almost my favourite band, in fact on days like today they ARE my favourite band. So Ax and I had made plans to follow them on part of their Australian tour - Melbourne, Sydney and two Brisbane shows. I very nearly lost my job over trying to acquire leave over this trip, but all was well in the end and nobody had their eyes stabbed out. It was a close thing though.

Melbourne, 5th November, Rod Laver Arena

This show was seated, but by god did we have amazing seats. Dead centre, front row. The seats were about as comfortable as sitting on a pincushion, but that was ok because we only spent about two milliseconds sitting down anyway. As soon as we heard the opening notes of I Feel Possessed, we were up on the rail, and there we stayed for the entire show. I hardly even remember leaving my seat. It took fucking ages for everyone else to stand up though, it wasn't until It's Only Natural, just before the encore, that everyone actually got up. Case in point:

Can you see us? The whole fucking arena saw us, dancing away like idiots. It was awesome! Set highlights included, oh, everything. Impromptu Chocolate Cake, Private Universe with most of Black and White Boy included in it, the hilarious banter. With three more shows to come, well, how much more awesome could it get? WELL.

Sydney, 6th November, Horden Pavilion

This show was GA, thank goodness! Our flight landed in Sydney at 2:30pm, and then it took us ages to get to the hotel, so I was freaking out a little bit about getting a good spot in line. We were absolutely determined to get front row! So we walked from our hotel to the venue, during which time I discovered that the city of Sydney can't stand pedestrians and wants them all dead. The idea of a pedestrian crossing seems like a very novel concept to them, and they like to tuck them away in the most inconvenient places. So it seemed to take about 9 years to actually get there, and I was convinced that the line was going to be a mile long! But no, of course not, we were about the 7th people there. We met lots of lovely Frenz in the line, and passed the time quite happily. When the gates opened things were rather chaotic, but we still managed to basically stroll down to the front and secure the front row.

This show, Ax was most determined to try and get them to play Recurring Dream, his favourite CH song. We had prepared a number of signs for this purpose and had warmed our voices up (well I lost mine, but that's not the point) the night before. The whole show was almost finished, and we were about to give up, when Neil heard one of our yells and said something along the lines of "I'm going to try and play it for this guy down the front" (pointing at Ax). He made noises about how he "didn't know it very well", but as soon as he was past the first verse, he was off! He even managed to do the solo on his acoustic guitar, which was SO MUCH win. I think Ax probably could have died happy at that point.

The rest of the set was amazing. They did a special performance of The Intriguer with the girl who won the lyrics competition held on their official website, which was lovely indeed. In My Command fucking killed, as did World Where You Live. Also, Neil made up a hilarious song about this guy who told him that he was singing Something So Strong wrong. This guy was called Evan, and according to Neil, "Evan makes love to his bed".

We tried to meet the band afterwards to thank them for Recurring Dream, but alas, we only managed to get a wave out of Matt as he drove by. Never mind!

We now had a couple of days of rest, in which we got hideously drunk, saw a dugong and ate some amazing bacon, though not quite in that order. More details on the dugong later, too. Then, on Tuesday morning, we made our way up to Queensland, the state of humidity, toads and not much else. Ax and I had the best hotel room ever. I would totally understand Evan making love to his bed if he had been staying there. But anyway!

Brisbane, 9th November, Convention and Exhibition Centre

Alas, for this show we failed to get front row seats. We were about 18 rows back. Although the sound was very good, the audience was poo. They sat down for pretty much the entire thing, even the people at the front! I was hoping that having It's Only Natural early in the set would get people on their feet, but NO. I couldn't resist leaping up a bit in Whispers And Moans (how could you NOT?) but we didn't get to stand properly until the encore. The lame people in front of us even sat down during Elephants. Idiots.

There were some very funny moments, including an impromptu song about this girl at the front and her "lovely dress", pointed out to us by Nick Seymour. Tomorrow night I was to have my Nick Seymour moment, but wait! I haven't finished talking about this one yet. I had been hanging out for Neil to do the Split Enz song Message To My Girl, after hearing it in Auckland in April and loving in. He delivered, and it was beautiful. Twice If You're Lucky was very good, and as always, When You Come blew the roof off.

The set was very good, as always, but sitting 18 rows back is NOT ideal. What would tomorrow night bring?

Brisbane, November 10th, Convention and Exhibition Centre

I knew that this gig was going to be the best one from the moment we found our seats. We were front row again, but this time we were right of centre, just in front of Nick Seymour. This was awesome enough, but then I noticed the stage. There was no barrier, so we could walk right up to the stage and lean on it, and the stage was so nice and low! I could actually see everything!

For this whole trip, I had been hanging out for them to play That's What I Call Love, a song from their debut album which, to our knowledge, hasn't been played since 1986 or so. More specifically, a demo version exists which is the musical equivalent of tasteful gypsy wares. My hopes of them fulfilling my request weren't exactly sky high, but I made a number of signs, just in case. Turns out I didn't even need the signs ...

Just after Twice If You're Lucky, Neil made a comment about how Nick can't dance very well after his recent knee surgery. He then asked if anyone in the audience had "healing powers" and would rub Nick's knee for him. Of course, I did it! Nick then said "what was my end of this deal again?" My opportunity! "Please play That's What I Call Love!" I yelled. Come on, after a nice knee rub, surely they would oblige?

Neil just went "Oh, jesus!" but gave it a go! I freaked out with excitement, but then nearly DIED when I realised he was singing the gypsy wares lyrics! So now I have a very cool claim to fame - I rubbed Nick Seymour's knee, and got them to play a song that, as far as we knew, hadn't been played for over 20 years. FUCK YES. I hardly remember much of the following song, Pour Le Monde, because I was still on a high. Hell, I still am.

Hole In The River also dominated, as did the full version of Chocolate Cake. I wish we could have gone to more shows - they're playing in Adelaide tonight - but I really couldn't have asked for more. What a fucking fantastic band.

I know this blog has very few pictures. I'm so sorry. I'll make a proper one soon, though it'll probably just be crappy pictures of Neil Finn. I'm in that kind of mood.

I love you.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Cat Lady

Where on earth have I been since the last time you saw me? Not very many places, to be honest. First of all I died (I'm still dying a bit) of a horrible cough which feels like lots of angry hedgehogs are trying to bash their way out of my throat.

That made me sad. Hedgehogs are cute and shouldn't make me feel like this:

Of course, that doesn't really stop me blogging. It's just I've been feeling spectacularly unfunny for the last week or so. I've suddenly become very homesick and that really isn't the best frame of mind in which to write funny stories and draw funny pictures! But I'm feeling much better today, especially because yesterday, summer arrived! But of course, this always happens. In late September/early October, there will be one brilliantly sunny day. Everyone will put on their shorts and run outside going "YAY!! SUMMER IS HERE!!" and get sunburnt.

Of course, the next day (today) it pisses down with rain and is cold. I fear my shorts will be sitting dejectedly in the wardrobe for a while. It's meant to be sunny again this weekend though. Just so you know.

Anyway. The boyfriend and I have a new hobby. Catspotting! He hasn't had a cat for 48784687 years, and I left my babies behind in New Zealand, so we both kind of crave cute fuzzy cats all the time. We've started to become quite familiar with the neighbourhood cats. Allow me to do for you the cutest blog entry ever.

1. Adorable black and white cat

We've seen this cat a few times on sunny days. It is the sweetest cat! So friendly, and always comes to see us. It acts like it owns the place, and is always on the lookout for the best patch of sun. We've seen it at four different houses, so god knows where it lives! All we know it it's so adorable!

2. Funny brown-faced cat

This cat has been sighted at a shitty house near where we live as well as in the nice house next door to it. Very cute, but not quite brave enough to come and say hello to us.

3. Mysterious ginger cat

We're not sure whether we've seen this cat a few times, or if different ginger cats have been sighted. This one was clearly way more interested in his sunny patch than us - just look at that face!

4. The best grey cat

This cat is my favourite! It looks just like my old cat who died earlier this year. It was so adorable, especially since you don't see that many grey cats. The best thing was that it seemed almost as brainless as my old cat - on our way home, it started to rain. This cat was still there outside. SO cute!

5. The cutest tabby cat

Definitely a contender for the cutest cat! Just look at that face. We've seen it a few times, and at one point, it was so well concealed in the flowerbed we almost missed it. Such a lovely cat!

6. Scruffy cat

We've only seen this cat once, and at a rather crappy house. Gorgeous long-haired cat, but he did need a good comb and a bit of love! He had a very serious little face.

7. Adorable white cat

Possibly the only cat friendlier than the black and white cat from the same street! This one was absolutely adorable. The boyfriend fell in love with it - not surprising, as it looked much like his old cat! This one seemed to love him as well. SO cute!! I hope we see it again soon!

8. Other adorable white cat

This was a cat we'd seen before, but never up close. He had clipped ears, probably due to albino cats being prone to skin cancer :( He seemed to be staying in the shade, which was good! Very cute, but he was quite happy to stay lying down. We know that this house also has a jet black cat and a tabby.

9. Black and white cat #2

This is another cat we know. What is it with black and white cats being so adorable and friendly? This one has come out to see us before as well. I just want to take him home!

So there you go! There are many, many more cats, including Flowerpot Cat and Window Kitten. Expect more posts like this, especially with the amount of cats we've been seeing in the sunny weather. I hope you've enjoyed your daily dose of adorable, and if any of these cats are yours, can we have them? Thanks.


Yes I am still alive. I haven't been for a while though. Expect an update tonight! Yay! I hope you're a excited as I am, dear reader!

Mainly I'm just writing this post so that I don't cop out of doing the entry itself. I'm sorry if this is a huge letdown. I will make up for it, I promise.

In the meantime, here is a drawing I found in my "blog" folder. Unfortunately, I can't for the bloody life of me remember what it was supposed to be part of.

Thank you.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

The ultimate tea-making guide.

Right. I am alive again, kind of. While I was dying, it occurred to me that Death By Bad Tea must be one of the leading causes of death outside of the United Kingdom. I think it's a terrible thing that there are people out there who don't even know how to make tea! (I'm looking at you, boyfriend). So, being the kind person that I am, I have compiled a handy guide to tea-making. It covers the most common mistakes, including the fatal tea-making errors that will make you bleed out of your eyes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First of all, let me present to you The Good Tea Guide.

A bone china mug is important, as it preserves the tea flavour very well and keeps it hot for a long time. The white interior of the cup is also vital - how else will you monitor your tea colour? Also I think it's just offputting to drink from a mug with a dark interior.

Let me take you through the vital steps involved in making a truly amazing cuppa.

  1. Teabag, obviously. Now the only blend I will accept is English Breakfast. I recognise that there are some heathens out there who seem to enjoy the soapy taste of Earl Grey, but we'll just pretend they don't exist for now. Herbal teas are not teas; we'll cover that later. As for loose leaf tea, well, I admit I haven't had much experience with it. However, I have nothing against it and will in fact respect you if you choose to take this difficult path in tea brewing. 
  2. Sugar. I take one. I don't really have any strong opinions on tea sweetening - oh wait, I do have one. My mum used to use those godawful Equal Sweettabs. They made the tea taste of Diet Coke. Foul things!
  3. Water. Now this step may seem simple, but believe me, it is fraught with difficulty! Firstly, the water MUST be boiling - if the water kind of ejaculates out of the spout of the kettle, you're doing something right. Secondly, the water must be poured from a reasonable height above the cup. This is to ensure adequate agitation of the teabag, giving you a stronger and more delicious brew. 
  4. Stir. Again, a seemingly simple step that people still fuck up. Make sure the teabag is agitated enough. The tea needs to permeate the water properly, or else your tea will be weak and nasty, like Earl Grey dishwater. Set your teabag rotating with your spoon, and then draw the spoon out of the cup in one quick motion, allowing the teabag to rotate unhindered by the spoon. Rest the spoon on top of your cup for convenience. 
  5. Milk. REMOVE YOUR TEABAG. I cannot stress this enough! Take it out and throw it in the bin. Now. Thank you. Now then, milk. Only full cream milk will do! None of this skim, low fat nonsense. There is a good reason for this - after 18 years of watching my mother use trim milk, I can assure you that it will turn your tea a nasty blue colour. Also it will taste like wee. Anyway, pour your milk and stir at the same time, so that you can monitor the colour of the tea effectively. 
Done! There, it's not so hard, is it? Well, according to lots of people, it bloody well is. Real tea is just splendid, and will probably make your day.

Bad tea, on the other hand, will make you dribble uncontrollably and bleed out of your eyes.

Clearly, this is not good for your overall health and wellbeing. So WHY do people make so many stupid mistakes while making tea? 

Firstly, people assume that things like herbal "tea" and skim "milk" are a good idea.

Herbal (oh, and fruit) teas are just abhorrent. They are also most misleading! Fruit teas smell so wonderful, and yet when you taste them ... well, there's no taste. It's all just smell. I might as well be drinking a mug of boiling water while sniffing a blackcurrant. Not impressed. Also, the kind of people who drink herbal and fruit teas should be avoided at all costs. They are probably activists and own numerous items of clothing made out of hemp.

As for skim milk, well we covered this earlier! It makes your tea blue. You got the message? Good. I will not take any responsibility for your foul tea made with devil milk. 

However, of all the deadly tea-making sins (did I mention that some people people put the milk in BEFORE the water?! AHHHH! This INSULATES the teabag, making it next to impossible for any delicious tea to seep through! Why would you do this to yourself!) I think the worst one of all would have to be something that I have thankfully never experienced first-hand. Legend has it that those ridiculous Americans hardly even know what an electric kettle is. They also seem to think you have to specify "hot tea" to get a cuppa, or else you'll get ICED TEA which is just as repulsive as fruit/herbal tea. Clearly they know nothing about tea-making. So next time you go to an American's house and request tea, prepare yourself for the following. I hear this is quite common. Are you ready?

They use WARM WATER to make tea. Out of the TAP.

This is so wrong on so many levels!!! I actually have nightmares about this!!

Ok. Breathe.

So there you have it, your guide to a perfect cuppa, every time!

Some people may have other opinions, but mine is always right. Yep.