The Sandwich: #43

The Sandwich


Today my fire eating training started in earnest. Now, despite what you may have heard, you can't become a fire eater overnight - not unless you are naturally gifted with a flame-retardant mouth, and only two people in the entire history of everything have ever had one of those. The first one died over 400 years ago, and it doesn't look like he's coming back, and the other is currently a financial adviser in Stevenage and isn't interested in fire eating as it puts his clients off.

I started by eating matches. Dead matches at first, but then moving on to live matches. Before long, my diet consisted of the following

  • Breakfast: A bowl matches in kerosene, sprinkled with gunpower.
  • Lunch: A couple of firelighters and a charcoal briquette.
  • Dinner: Petrol soup, followed by dynamite in a light napalm sauce, with gelignite and custard for dessert.

And, if I felt peckish in between meals, I was allowed to suck on a blowlamp.

It's surprisingly nutritious although you really wouldn't want to be around me when I break wind. I've been banned from WHSmiths now, since the last time I was in there I let rip and set fire to all the gardening and lifestyle magazines.



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