Nobody, My Darling, Could Call Me A Fussy Man…
But I Do Like A Little Bit Of Butter With My Bread.
As I am always delightful, I feel it my duty to help Graeme find his way in the awkward and often delicate field of manners. He LOVES it. For example, he eats bread (at dinner) like he was raised by wolves. I’ve met his parents, they’re nice and generally unhairy, but I can only assume the babysitter had fangs.
I was raised to tear a small piece of bread roll off at a time, as I was ready to eat it. I would put a bit of butter on my bread plate and butter the roll from there, not going back to the butter dish every time. I do not cut my bread roll with a knife ever, nor do I hold the roll in the air while I butter it, it is ingrained in me that such things are deeply common.
Also, it is deeply common.
Now, you can butter your bread roll however you want. Except with my family in which case do. not. cut. your. fucking. roll.
Let’s just be clear that I judge you and, more specifically, your parents when you cut your bread roll. And I am right.
Don’t worry about it though, we can still hang out if you want. I’ll probably just be here, on my own, at the table with my roll wondering where the party’s at.
The King's Breakfast
Emma Said,
August 5, 2009 @ 19:46
So what is it about our men?
First the inability to hold a tub of sour cream and now the bread roll fiasco….
Maybe we need to upgrade them?
Graeme Said,
August 6, 2009 @ 10:23
Someone needs to explain to me why its more civilized to TEAR APART A BUN, rather than gracefully cut it in two.
Richmond Said,
February 20, 2010 @ 12:59
It is more civilised to tear apart a roll (not a BUN, darling; that is something quite different) rather than
cut it because cutting one’s roll in highly Non-U! Tearing one’s roll is almost as uncivilised as people who
tip their soup bowls towards them rather than away when they take their soup – and, for that matter, use
desert spoons rather than soup spoons. Aye, but I don’t suppose you have fish knives and forks either!
All of that is my lost youth – and glad it is lost too: a load of old testicles. I eat my food the way I listen
to my music; the way I want to. But, hey, as a result I am barred from all the best houses in the land . . .
But, if people are so insecure that they need to “have a thing” about tearing rolls, supping their brose in funny ways, and so forth; let them – it disnae hurt me – I’m a Scot.