February 2012
34 posts
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A Gordon Ramsay Poem
gordonramsaypoetry:
Bread’s dreadful Wet chewy dough, damn. Wowwowwowwow. Strands of mozzerella.
It’s soaking wet It’s bland and it’s a thousand miles away from anything called focaccia let me tell you
you’re an airhead who’s got her head stuck in the clouds. this is business.
A Gordon Ramsay Poem
gordonramsaypoetry:
A stunning ravioli. It has that wow factor. Holy crap, holy crap. Holy crap. The scallops. The FUCKING risotto.
A Gordon Ramsay Poem
gordonramsaypoetry:
What the hell is this? I must have some boiled shrimp. Are you proud to serve that food? Fresh frozen? Blimey. You don’t give a fuck about food.
Gordon Ramsay poetry is my new favourite thing in the world.
“It was the most erotic moment of my life, up until then at least.”
– Something Old Rose said to a room filled with creepy dudes and her granddaughter in Titanic. (via bobbyfinger)
Because the world needs more Neely.
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