So Mama J who gets stressed out by little things at the best of times, has had to deal with some BIG (for her, minor for everyone else) first world issues… Tesco have done away with their Takeaway Texas BBQ Chicken Pizza!
Mama J has spun so far off course due to this issue that she is now sitting on the moon. Everyone wave to the skies and shout and ask, “Hello when are you making your way home?” I need cuddles from Mama J and her arms don’t stretch all the way from the moon.
The issue was first highlighted when Granny went into Tesco to get Mama J her fix (Granny sounds like some drug dealing baroness) only to find a replacement (minus its pot of BBQ flavoured wonderment) pizza in the fridge. Granny worriedly (for Mama J’s belly) questioned the member of staff filling up the fridges who said this was the new improved version. Granny came into the house looking sheepish (just what had she been up to at the supermarket? Did she flirt with the male Checkout Operator on duty) and told Mama J of Tesco’s pizza altering misdemeanour. Oh dear a look of pure pain was etched over Mama J’s face like she’d fallen over Weeble style and broken her leg. She nervously pulled herself back from the brink and together again, smiled and then agreed to try this new improved pizza that evening.
Mama J and Grandpa were served up with the new improved BBQ pizza (who the hell stole Texas) to try. Grandpa is a bit like a human trash can, in the fact that if it’s edible he will eat it, all up! Mama J has a more discerning (okay darn right picky/fussy) palate and tasted it like she was a judge on Master Chef or was replacing Mary Berry as the new Great British Bake Off supremo. Hey Mama J I think that is too taller an order even for you. Mary is an absolute floral jacket wearing legend!
As for Mama J’s critique well it wasn’t a favourable one at all, sorry Tesco. She said the base now tasted of cardboard. Yes, Mama J does actually have a rough idea what cardboard tastes like, as when she used to get her penny sweets from the newsagents round the corner from where my family used to live, her and her right hand man/next door neighbour Richard used to eat the paper bags too. They were such cultured children. They even used to eat doggie chocolate drops. Right Mama J now you’ve just confessed to that, you will have to be supervised by Granny or Grandpa when giving me Pooch and Mutt treats. I don’t want you gobbling them up, you cheeky thing! As well as the new and improved (yeah right) pizza tasting of cardboard all the flavour of the BBQ sauce was nearly gone too. Oh and there’s some weird brown stuff on it that tastes odd. I’m sure Mary Berry would give you a more comprehensive critique on the brown stuffs flavour but to Mama J it just tastes odd!
So the search for a second holy grail of Texas (I swear that’s what it’s lost out on) BBQ pizza is now most firmly on in this house, as Mama J’s belly is grumbling for her weekly serving of half a pizza. Yes, tiny Mama J could devour that much of it all in one sitting. Along with her Granny lasagne large sized portions, I’m surprised she’s not taking up sumo wrestling. Now Mama J get your nappy now and be ready to fight.
This pizza must come from a supermarket though as Dominos and our local take away shop are a bit too over budget for a weekly fix of Mama J’s pizza habit. Wish her luck in doing her Lord Sugar style search for her next Apprentice/sorry pizza.
Mama J’s second first world issue (oh yes this girls got real problems, inside her head) came about when she went in the shower and was attempting to get glossy hair by putting a Kerastaste deep conditioning treatment on. Mama J’s hair is golden blonde so she may have her work cut out on the glossy front unless she did a Sunset Beach and turned all the lights on full blast to give it the full glossy effect.
Anyway the treatment went on and then we all heard a crash and then lots of expletives that I being a lady with such high vocabulary standards will not be repeating on here, or anywhere else for that matter. Then we heard Mama J scraping the shower floor like nails running down a blackboard. She was trying to get the treatment back into the pot she’d just dropped while attempting to get the lid back on. Mama J was like a contestant on The Crystal Maze game show, however instead of trying to collect gold and silver tickets in the allocated forty-seconds (okay the time the treatment was washed away down the plug hole of doom forever) she was trying to gather up the very expensive treatment that was smearing all over the shower floor.
Once she had gathered as much as was humanly possible and put it back in the jar then came another even more exciting problem for Mama J to encounter, this game wasn’t on The Crystal Maze’s course but was more akin to Dancing On Ice. Yes, now the shower floor had turned into an ice skating arena and Mama J was no Jayne Torvill. She was more like Todd Carty and she was screaming, “Oh! Ah! Help I need somebody!” Mama J had created Bambi On Ice mark two as she was sliding around with the shower hose firmly focused on the floor trying to aid her in her quest for stability.
The shower was turned off after Mama J’s treatment had been on five minutes longer than its allotted time limit was washed off. Mama J came shakily out and vowed not to give ice skating a go should she want to try a new sporting activity in the New Year.