I'm short, yappy and..... oh, what was that bright shiny thing that just flew past?
Brussell sprouts are fucking ghastly. My Dad loves them, and eats them doused in red wine vinegar. Mom would take pity on us kids and would fix green beans for us to eat instead of brussell sprouts. Dad's mom was Belgian/French, he grew up eating all kinds of dreadful things and loved them. Oh, get this, my grandma, Dad's mom, fixed rabbit for Easter when I was a kid, and then thought I was weird for being all freaked out at the thought of eating the Easter bunny.Just another reason I'm dreading having to live with my parents before going over to NI, the smell of brussell sprouts cooking, and then, the smell of the bog after Dad eats the Brussell sprouts. Wrong, just wrong.Jesus, my family...
How traumatised were you for eating the Easter bunny? I sure as hell hoped they give you therapy for Christmas.Brussel sprouts - gah - they're a small green ball of mistake.
Lightly steamed and served with slivered almonds - not my favourite but at least okay.
You're braver than I, Homepaddock. I don't think any flavour could disguise the horror that is the B.Sprout.
I'm past therapy. They mainly just try and keep me sedated now; really, it's for the best.
I'm Belgian, and even I think they're only to be tolerated.
Fat Sparrow, wise. Very wise. Mwa, I think that marinated in a highly flammable substance and then ignited may be an acceptable way to have them.
I think that brussel sprouts are Gods sick joke on the world. Sitting up there laughing away, "they're eating them, ha ha, they're really eating them!"
OH yeah unPC, I reckon he's sitting up there thinking, 'Heh, humans is stupid.Fun, but stupid.'
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