spent listening to the Kooks whilst rustling up steamed chicken breast with a creamy leek and mushroom sauce. Im not the greatest cook in the world, half the time I dart dangerously between stove and cook book, knife in one hand and a random vegetable in the other. But Mr T always comes to save the day. Hes my own personal Jamie Oliver with the only difference being that he swears in Portuguese.
Ive also been doing this piece. Im trying to adopt the minimum colour technique. It feels abit like going on a diet, except with colour. However, if it could in someway succeed in controlling the ever increasing midriff wobble I would be going monochrome whilst munching on Dime bars without any problem whatsoever. You may notice in the far right, a certain Mr T watching a cooking programme in dismay. He cant stand competition.
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