oh fromage!
One thing that G.K. Chesterton actually did say was this: “Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
Well, I’m no poet but I don’t mind saying it: I fucking love cheese, me.
I can sort of remember John Lennon and Elvis dying and I remember school assembly the day of the first ever space shuttle launch, but the lunch time I had my first ever slice of melted cheese on toast is indelibly etched on my brain. I remember with the surety and firmness that all childhood memories are built on, raising the slice aloft and declaring: “What prestidigitation is this? What magical transfiguration of nature is this which has rendered that which was nice into that which is necessary? I am become Ozymandias, melter of cheese. Stare upon my toastie and despair.”
Well, I’m no poet but I don’t mind saying it: I fucking love cheese, me.
I can sort of remember John Lennon and Elvis dying and I remember school assembly the day of the first ever space shuttle launch, but the lunch time I had my first ever slice of melted cheese on toast is indelibly etched on my brain. I remember with the surety and firmness that all childhood memories are built on, raising the slice aloft and declaring: “What prestidigitation is this? What magical transfiguration of nature is this which has rendered that which was nice into that which is necessary? I am become Ozymandias, melter of cheese. Stare upon my toastie and despair.”
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