00:00 - 00:03 | Sunday lunch is nearly ready. Your greatest triumph. |
00:04 - 00:05 | Veggies from Hawkes Bay |
00:05 - 00:07 | Roast Beef from the Taranaki |
00:08 - 00:12 | and Mrs Himmler is bringing her famous Yorkshire pud |
00:12 - 00:15 | Last summers barbeque fiasco will be forgotten forever |
00:17 - 00:19 | True. Men CAN cook |
00:19 - 00:21 | It is my divine right |
00:24 - 00:26 | My Fuhrer |
00:27 - 00:28 | The beef |
00:31 - 00:33 | the beef has burnt |
00:34 - 00:36 | it's completely ruined |
00:53 - 00:58 | Everyone who advised me to follow Ramsay's recipe leave. |
01:13 - 01:15 | What do you mean, the beef is ruined? |
01:15 - 01:17 | You three told me Ramsay was infallible |
01:18 - 01:23 | Sunday roast in six easy steps, you said |
01:25 - 01:28 | Even Churchill could it, you promised |
01:29 - 01:31 | The leaders of the 3rd Reich will be here in 20 minutes |
01:31 - 01:34 | and now you tell me the beef is fucked beyond redemption? |
01:34 - 01:37 | This is worse than that episode of Fawlty Towers |
01:37 - 01:40 | I'll be the laughing stock of the bunker |
01:40 - 01:42 | But, my Fuhrer, you could serve it as a vegetarian meal |
01:42 - 01:46 | Do I look like a tree hugger? |
01:46 - 01:48 | Lauraine Jacobs has several in her new book |
01:48 - 01:52 | Lauraine Jacobs is a woman |
01:53 - 01:54 | despite her appearance |
01:56 - 01:57 | Men cook roasts |
01:57 - 02:00 | and beef is the most manly of all |
02:00 - 02:03 | my gravy would have been perfect |
02:04 - 02:08 | My mothers secret recipe, a work of genius |
02:08 - 02:13 | I should never have listened to you |
02:14 - 02:16 | I should have stuck with my plan to cook chicken |
02:17 - 02:21 | Cooking chook is like invading Britain |
02:27 - 02:29 | a piece of piss |
02:30 - 02:34 | No wonder Stalin serves it every time |
02:34 - 02:36 | And Mussolini |
02:41 - 02:42 | his peas are very good too |
02:43 - 02:47 | but I'll be famous for burnt cow |
02:48 - 02:53 | OK with toast or eggs, they'll say |
02:54 - 02:56 | but out of his depth |
02:56 - 02:59 | with a Sunday roast |
03:00 - 03:02 | and they'll be right, the bastards |
03:04 - 03:07 | Don't worry Eva, you can always whip up some bacon sarnies |
03:14 - 03:16 | I'll never make it to celebrity Masterchef now |
03:19 - 03:23 | Simon Gault and Ray Mcvinnie will unfriend me |
03:25 - 03:26 | on Facebook |
03:31 - 03:33 | We'll have to delay them with canapes |
03:40 - 03:46 | Can some one nip down to Countdown and see if they can get |
03:46 - 03:49 | two ready to roast chickens, the ones in the bags |
03:53 - 03:56 | Even I can't fuck that up |