Where does yoghurt come from?

Where does it come from?

Where does it come from?

Now this is a subject I don’t give a great deal of thought to, there being much more pressing matters in the world at this moment in time eg. Poor umpiring decisions at Trent Bridge, and should Tulisa leave the country for good (Yes please, and take Dappy and the rest of N Dubz with you.)

However I am obliged to consider it when it raises its ugly head as a topic of conversation one breakfast time. I am sitting with my colleagues on a sunny picturesque balcony surrounded by honeysuckle and jasmine. (To tell you the truth, I have no idea what we are surrounded by, but writers always seem to mention same, so I figure the odds are that there is at least a bit of one or another) enveloping us in their heady scent as we enjoy a ‘continental breakfast’ of rolls they could practise their batting on up at Trent Bridge, fruit and yoghurt.

Whereupon someone announces they can taste ‘the cheese’ in their yoghurt. Now I am a little perplexed at this statement, never having considered cheese to be an ingredient in the humble yoghurt, and express my surprise.

It transpires that the ‘cheesy’ flavour is the result of the fact the yoghurt comes from milk, which as it happens is where cheese comes from too. Well this is news to me, (not about the cheese, but about the yoghurt)

‘Well where did you think yoghurt came from?’

I sense they are trying to catch me out, but have none of it: ‘From the supermarket of course’

‘No, no before that. How is it actually made?’

As I say from the outset, it is not a matter that bothers me much. But after being put right by my fellow diners I am left all day trying to figure how they pour the milk from bottles or cartons into those little pots, or is it squeezed straight in from the cow? Very labour intensive, I conclude. And what about the fruit? How and when does that get in there?

Help

Confused of Ruislip.

This post is sponsored by the Milk Marketing Board and any characters represented herein bear no relation to any persons living or dead.

I hate it when that happens

Warning. This post contains some bad language and scenes of mild to moderate bloody gore.

May not be suitable for those of a nervous disposition.

Ah! fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I’ve bitten my tongue.

I hate it when that happens.

Andy Daly 2013

And now especially for you, here’s the weather X X X

And another thing…

What in the wide wide world of sports is going on? Just what is it that makes the current crop of TV presenters, particularly weather reporters and those fronting documentary programmes think that it is acceptable to address the viewing public as though we are stone-deaf retards?

Condescending delivery with certain words painfully enunicated at volume as though they were shouting down some deaf dowager’s ear trumpet is a characteristic trait. “RAIN … tomorrow … It’s going to RAIN!” – Peter Cockroft of BBC South East’s weather team being by far the worst offender.

Then there is the ‘Sexing up’ of  what would otherwise be agreeably dull documentaries by a team of academic ‘pin ups’ Exciteable  media-savvy types such as Neil ‘the hair’ Oliver (hon. Phd) , Dr Alice ‘Breathless’ Roberts, Prof. Brian ‘Big Bang’ Cox over-enthuse like children’s TV presenters (imagine the Blue Peter studio full of puppies)

Big Bang

Big Bang

Hair

Hair

Breathless

Breathless

We are hooked and reeled in by same with the promise of the revelation of long-hidden secrets. Well when I finally do see a documentary which really does tell me something I  don’t already know about the Valley of the Kings, I swear I will eat my Doc Marten boots: Bouncing soles and all.

Is there a special department of the BBC which trains them all to be so intolerably enthusiastic, in the same way BBC announcers were coached in the dark art of Received Pronunciation back in the 40s and 50s?

Thank Goodness for Mary Beard.

Copyright Andy Daly 2013