The Sock is not a great biscuit eater being more of a cake or cookie girl. This is in part due to the knowledge that many years ago some student friends worked in a biscuit factory and told her what went into the mix – and it was a lot worse than the story everybody’s Dad tells them about the black bits in Garibaldi biscuits being, in fact, dead flies. The Sock was unconvinced of the veracity of these reports until working for a few months in a Public Health department she entertained herself by reading the files of what some poor punters had found in their food. Put it this way, the aprés-pub curry house nicknamed The Alsatian Grill was a bit to close to the er.. boneo. (Nevertheless after several pints of scrumpy the chicken and mushroom half and half* tasted good enough for the ill-educated palate of the 1970s.)
The Public Health files were so fascinating that the Sock eventually got the sack, it being the only bit of the job she showed any interest in. Apart from the jars of cockroaches that the Rat-Catcher (later re-named the Pest Control Officer) used to bring in to the office and a locust found in a tin of pineapple chunks, there were food and restaurant horror stories enough to put Weight Watchers out of business. One which sticks in the Sock’s psyche detailed the horror of a customer who, whilst masticating on the delights of a T-bone at a local Steakhouse, had kicked off her shoes. Unfortunately a mouse had crept into one and expired leaving the customer squealing when she realised why she couldn’t jam her toes back into the pointy bit. There have been times when a meal has been so orgasmically exquisite that the Sock too has kicked off her shoes in ecstasy – but now she always remembers to check for decomposing wildlife before donning them again. The file on the rat in the bread loaf, which didn’t become too apparent until the slices with whiskers and half the head had been eaten, was also memorable.
As usual the Sock has digressed.. where were we.. biscuits! The Sock is quite addicted to TUC biscuits. According to Wiki-answers TUC stands for The Ultimate Cracker. This begs the questions as to whether a cracker is actually a biscuit at all although it is certainly not a cake. The Sock never travels without a pack of TUC biscuits joining the Happypeefrog, sporks and anti-swine-flu wipes that have a permanent place in the glove box. TUC are a touring holiday must have – despite searching the backwaters of Australia the Sock was unable to find them although interestingly there were a profusion of very good cupcake shops in the most out-of-the-way places. Europe is better served and TUC are available in paprika flavour or, in Italy, olive flavour – so pretentious!
* half and half refers to half chips and half rice a popular order with late night curries. When the Sock first moved from the sticks to cosmopolitan Brighton she ordered “half and half” at an Indian restaurant. The waiter said “Oh – you must be from Wales!”