Every country has its embarrassing recipes from the past that are routinely dragged up by little-known comedians and used as objects of ridicule on third-rate televised nostalgia-fests - except Ireland. We still eat this shit day-in, day-lewis - peeing in the face of reason while gleefully jerking-off the flaccid member of common-sense. We then totally text this reprehensible behaviour to Youtube and I-pod it all over our Bebos. But that's cos we like a bit of craic over here, isn't that right? A bit of skit with the lads in the local, y'know? It's all fun and games until granny has a rectal prolapse at mass.
Bolands Mikado - 8/10
Summary: Not appearing in Brian Kennedy's Streethawk lunchbox any time soon
Boland's Mikado (AKA fanny biscuits) bear a striking resemblance to a lady's intimate apparatus in both appearance, elasticity, and verbal dexterity. Devised in a Wexford convent in 1933 by Sister Bootilicious, the chortles they illicited from huddled, giggling nuns were legendary, as they watched visiting parish priests enthusiastically licking the jam from the centre, unaware of how hetero they looked. Once in the shops, Mikado proved proved to be an immediate hit and we still enjoy those very same irreverent laughs some 300 years later. All a bit of harmless fun. Over the years, other religious sects were keen to cash in and produce a naughty treat of their own, though, not surprisingly, Jacobs Throbbing Veiny Phallus Rolls (with actual real man-jizz filling) proved a little too visceral for the average consumer and were banned from school dinners in 1987.
Erin Gravy Rich - 3/10
Summary: For Sunday gravy every day - consider taking some regular exercise
One dark day in the 80s, while settling down to Sunday dinner in his rodent-infested tenement, the Irish ad executive (there was only one at the time) was taken aback as the infamous Bodyform ad made it's debut on Al Jazeera. It made him weep openly with its soaring, emotive vocals. As tampons were banned by the RTE in those days, he desperately needed needed an edgy product on which to foist his homage. Then, while fishing a mouse out by the tail from betwixt the grooves of a gravy-covered Mikado - Eureka! - he realised his continuing existence was pointless. Before he ended his life he did find time to pen for Erin that enduring gruff-voiced ditty which accompanied their popular radio and TV ad campaign well into the 90s. Good for him.
Odlums Porridge - 2/10
Summary: Owl droppings
A conspiracy theory recently made public suggests that the lovable Odlums owl is not quite what we thought - is it in fact a crude (and partially inaccurate) diagram of the female reproductive system? No, it's a fucking cartoon owl you pervert - and this feathery flying hooter has the shits. BIG time. To make this unlikely product more palatable, cows invented hot milk, which, when applied to Odlums (Oo'del-ooms) caused an impressive chemical reaction, producing porridge (Va-om[m]it) - but it was still not enough. As the years go by, serving suggestions on the packaging get more and more outlandish in an effort to convince us that this stuff is edible (once consumed with a vast amount of additional strawberry jam). Pretty soon there'll just be an empty bag with a picture of a Big Mac on the front with a little notice attached "Sorry Ireland, we got it wrong. Your nearest McDonalds is located at.....".
Centra Sliced Carrots - 2/10
Summary: For the way we live - too gay
Now don't get me wrong, I like carrots as much as the next disgraced, dead, former Taoiseach - and I'm sure they were probably invented by Walt Disney or something so they're not strictly native to our shores - but there's something about the way the carrots are sliced in Centra's frozen offering that is quimtessentially Irelandish. This is the familiar sliced variety that graces doorways and pavements the nation over as a key ingredient in a hot and nutritious impromptu post-hostelry Guinness kerb-stew. Part of our heritage, in other words.
Score Red Lemonade - 7/10
Summary: Lowest common denominator carbonated kiddy comforter
Legend has it that red lemonade is banned in all countries but Ireland. Legend also has it that King Arthur rode a flourescent unicorn to Atlantis to push Gollum off the Cliffs of Moher into the bubbling lava below, so it's very likely that it's all a load of bollisk. Legend can eat my shorts, friend - for I live in the real world - a world of rising mortgage rates, talking apes, talking chimps, partially-coherent chimps (and apes) and ASBOs. Back to the subject in hand, Score lemonade is so called as it was traditionally used by gentlemen to 'score' with kids (with the red and white varieties separately appealing to children of the corresponding colouring). I've no idea what Score Cola is about. Not a fucking clue.
Bolands Mikado - 8/10
Summary: Not appearing in Brian Kennedy's Streethawk lunchbox any time soon
Boland's Mikado (AKA fanny biscuits) bear a striking resemblance to a lady's intimate apparatus in both appearance, elasticity, and verbal dexterity. Devised in a Wexford convent in 1933 by Sister Bootilicious, the chortles they illicited from huddled, giggling nuns were legendary, as they watched visiting parish priests enthusiastically licking the jam from the centre, unaware of how hetero they looked. Once in the shops, Mikado proved proved to be an immediate hit and we still enjoy those very same irreverent laughs some 300 years later. All a bit of harmless fun. Over the years, other religious sects were keen to cash in and produce a naughty treat of their own, though, not surprisingly, Jacobs Throbbing Veiny Phallus Rolls (with actual real man-jizz filling) proved a little too visceral for the average consumer and were banned from school dinners in 1987.
Erin Gravy Rich - 3/10
Summary: For Sunday gravy every day - consider taking some regular exercise
One dark day in the 80s, while settling down to Sunday dinner in his rodent-infested tenement, the Irish ad executive (there was only one at the time) was taken aback as the infamous Bodyform ad made it's debut on Al Jazeera. It made him weep openly with its soaring, emotive vocals. As tampons were banned by the RTE in those days, he desperately needed needed an edgy product on which to foist his homage. Then, while fishing a mouse out by the tail from betwixt the grooves of a gravy-covered Mikado - Eureka! - he realised his continuing existence was pointless. Before he ended his life he did find time to pen for Erin that enduring gruff-voiced ditty which accompanied their popular radio and TV ad campaign well into the 90s. Good for him.
Odlums Porridge - 2/10
Summary: Owl droppings
A conspiracy theory recently made public suggests that the lovable Odlums owl is not quite what we thought - is it in fact a crude (and partially inaccurate) diagram of the female reproductive system? No, it's a fucking cartoon owl you pervert - and this feathery flying hooter has the shits. BIG time. To make this unlikely product more palatable, cows invented hot milk, which, when applied to Odlums (Oo'del-ooms) caused an impressive chemical reaction, producing porridge (Va-om[m]it) - but it was still not enough. As the years go by, serving suggestions on the packaging get more and more outlandish in an effort to convince us that this stuff is edible (once consumed with a vast amount of additional strawberry jam). Pretty soon there'll just be an empty bag with a picture of a Big Mac on the front with a little notice attached "Sorry Ireland, we got it wrong. Your nearest McDonalds is located at.....".
Centra Sliced Carrots - 2/10
Summary: For the way we live - too gay
Now don't get me wrong, I like carrots as much as the next disgraced, dead, former Taoiseach - and I'm sure they were probably invented by Walt Disney or something so they're not strictly native to our shores - but there's something about the way the carrots are sliced in Centra's frozen offering that is quimtessentially Irelandish. This is the familiar sliced variety that graces doorways and pavements the nation over as a key ingredient in a hot and nutritious impromptu post-hostelry Guinness kerb-stew. Part of our heritage, in other words.
Score Red Lemonade - 7/10
Summary: Lowest common denominator carbonated kiddy comforter
Legend has it that red lemonade is banned in all countries but Ireland. Legend also has it that King Arthur rode a flourescent unicorn to Atlantis to push Gollum off the Cliffs of Moher into the bubbling lava below, so it's very likely that it's all a load of bollisk. Legend can eat my shorts, friend - for I live in the real world - a world of rising mortgage rates, talking apes, talking chimps, partially-coherent chimps (and apes) and ASBOs. Back to the subject in hand, Score lemonade is so called as it was traditionally used by gentlemen to 'score' with kids (with the red and white varieties separately appealing to children of the corresponding colouring). I've no idea what Score Cola is about. Not a fucking clue.
