FAQs – Toast: Why it’s not called “burnt bread” and more!

Two pieces of toast
Toast.

Toast is one of those things you don’t really think about much. As such, there’s a world of confusion out there – misinformation, lies, propaganda, and other such uncertainty. And we’re here to sort that out!

Today our FAQs participant is Dame Penelope Antoinette Winchester III. The 55 year old has never eaten toast in her life due to it being for, “Inferior working class scumbags.”

She’s gracefully agreed to participate in today’s FAQs, under the provision she can promote her forthcoming book: Why Working Class People Are Inferior.

Dame Penelope: Hello, Professional Moron. It is a great honour for you that I am here. Bow before me!

Hello. We know you haven’t tried toast, so we have some here for you now to get a better understanding of what it’s all about.

Dame Penelope: Bow before me, subjects.

Erm… no. We don’t bow to anyone, sorry, except for our esteemed editor, Mr. Wapojif, each morning.

Dame Penelope: Bow before me, otherwise I shall leave in a huff!

[The Professional Moron staff engage in discussion] Okay, we’ll bow before you but you can’t get Mr. Wapojif to do that, we’re afraid. He has a gammy leg after he accidentally set himself on fire yesterday when using a lighter to dry his trousers.

Dame Penelope: All shall bow!

[The Professional Moron staff engage in discussion] Okay, he’s agreed to bow but has warned you that he may pass out due to the chronic agony he’s labouring under thanks to third-degree burns.

Dame Penelope: Bow!

[The Professional Moron staff all bow, including Mr. Wapojif. He emits an ear-piercing shriek of agony and topples forward unconscious, his prone body bumping off Dame Penelope Antoinette Winchester III in the process.]

Dame Penelope: I say! What a revolting little man!

Mr. Wapojif isn’t little, he’s over six feet tall.

Dame Penelope: I meant “little” to the extent he is an irrelevant pustule. Can you remove him forthwith?

Sure. Office apprentice, can you drag him out of here, please? Cheers.

Dame Penelope: Now, I am here about toast. And I intend to also toast my excellent book, which is being published in Q1 of 2019 most shortly, I say.

You’re toasting your book with toast? That’s quite unusual. Try not to get bits of bread all over your copy.

Dame Penelope: With the finest Champagne, you unspeakable fools!

You’re going to pour champagne all over your book?

Dame Penelope: What lowlifes you well and truly are.

Thanks! So, you’ve not eaten toast before, is that correct? Here’s a piece for you now. Try it.

Dame Penelope: Get that putrescent thing away from me this instant!

Look it’s tasty, see – watch as I chew on it. It’s rather nice.

Dame Penelope: I… I feel faint…

Jesus… is she going to pass out?

Dame Penelope: Quick… pass me the sous-vide saffron, avocado, and truffle dip! With the slight zest of gremolata and a side of consommé. Now, you imbeciles, The light is fading before mine eyes!

We don’t have any of those things.

Dame Penelope: Good… God! What Hell hole have I instigated myself into!?

Look, we’ve got some houmous and… you could also maybe try rubbing this olive oil into face. Perhaps that will help.

Dame Penelope: How will that help, you disgraceful cretin!?

It’s organic. Very good for you, is olive oil.

Dame Penelope: Go forth into the street and bring me truffles. NOW!

Okay, office apprentice! Go forth into the street and find Dame Penelope Antoinette Winchester III some truffles. Nevermind “What are those, then?”, just bloody well hurry it up, you disgraceful cretin!

Dame Penelope: I hope that foolish boy knows how to get a move on about circumstances. This has been a most distressing experience.

Do you want some toast to calm yourself down, woman?

Dame Penelope: *Coughing and spluttering*

Oh, yes, it was that stuff that was the problem to begin with. Oops.

Dame Penelope: Never in my life have I endured such torment!

It’s just some bloody toast, lady! It’s bread that gets stuffed into a hotter than usual place, then you take it out of the toaster before it gets incinerated.

Dame Penelope: Toaster? Is that a special type of servant?

No, it’s like a microwave for bread.

Dame Penelope: What is this… “microwave”?

It’s a type of radioactive cooking implement.

Dame Penelope: Oh… for people who don’t have servants?

Yes, we guess so.

Dame Penelope: Where is your halfwit of an apprentice?! In my abode, there are truffles emanating from almost every available orifice!

We think he was just a bit confused about what they are, is all.

Dame Penelope: God speed to him! A nescient fool like that will need all the luck obtainable in this thine life.

Yes, we guess he will. Oh look, he’s back again. Okay… well he’s put some stuff in this mug. There you go, hope this is decent for you.

Dame Penelope: Golly gosh… there’s just some water at the bottom… that is not truffles!

Okay, for clarification here – he thought you said “puddles”, so he went out and found a puddle and scooped up some of it with that mug. Sorry about that!

Dame Penelope: Good gracious… I fear I may need to evacuate the contents of my abdomen…

If you need to hurl, love, the toilet is just through there. It’s not had a clean in many months, though, so that might help you along, really. Otherwise, you can just go out the window there. There’s nothing outside, a bit of puke won’t hurt anyone.

Dame Penelope: Your hand, office apprentice…

You want to marry him?! He’s a bit weird and not very good looking, plus he’s as poor as a pauper.

Dame Penelope: To steady me, you nincompoops! I must leave this most vilest of headquarters!

Oh, okay. That makes sense. Do you want to perhaps read an extract from your book before you leave?

Dame Penelope: No… I am gone. Begone! I am gone. [She waddles out of the office with support from the office apprentice].

Huh. Well that was an odd experience. Oh, look, Mr. Wapojif has regained consciousness! He’s dribbling quite a lot there as he crawls about on all fours.

Get the office apprentice to mop up the drool with the leftover toast when he’s back from helping that stupid biddy. It’s gone cold anyway. Everyone knows cold toast is poison.

Also, for his various errors previously, lash the office apprentice 17 times with a dressing gown cord. That will teach him a lesson!

8 comments

  1. Interesting. Mr. W. bowed to Penelope…I was just sharing a brewski with her last Saturday. A fraud. My motto re toast is when it’s tan it’s cooking , when it’s burnt it’s done.

    Like

  2. Dame Penelope sounds like a great gal! You should see if you can get her on staff, permanently. Or, perhaps a column on being superior to everyone.

    Like

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