Now, I may have got my wires crossed here, but there has been another case of life imitating art!
It seems that a couple of people have been hospitalated. And what be the cause of their injuries?
Killer Curry!
Death by Dupiaza! Suffocated by psychotic Sag Aloo holding a chloroformed paratha over the cakehole! Bonce bashed in by a bare-knuckled (argy) bhaji!
I have many a documentary about killer items, From killer poo in Monsturd through to killer yoghurt (or should that be Killer raita!) in The Stuff.
And now we have the uprising of the Indian Spring (not to be confused with the Chinese Spring [roll]), putting gourmets of spicy repasts in the naanbulance.
Murder in the Aloo Murg!
I, for one, am not bowing to our new biryani benefactors, nor waiting to be devoured by these masaala overlords! I shall escape through the back of me wardrobe into Naania, where I can gorge on non-Killer Turkish Delight in the dam with Mrs Beaver (Curry White) as I rest my head on her dirty pillaus.
I dread to think what a Bhuna Beaver tastes like. 'Specially if it comes with a dose of special fried rice with a blue waffle for dessert. Presumably, it's like a Chicken Tarka. Which, in turn, is like a Chicken Tikka, only a little 'otter.
Ah, I'm only Rogan Joshing!
However, they do say that pride comes before a phal, so perhaps I'll just have to 'man up' and face these jalfrezi Jihaddists down. No foodstuff is gonna take MY planet!
Even if it is a (Tandoori Clay) Pot Person From The Planet Mars(alla)!!
