Drug Onion Soup.
You will need:
4 – 6 large 'brown' onions
Couple of cloves of garlic
Pinch of 'brown' sugar
Unhealthy glug of Vermouth or white wine
A litre of beef stock (real or made with fucking beef stock cube)
Scraps of left over beef (optional)
A few slices of Emmental cheese (optional)
Drugs, as we all know, are incredibly good for you. I'm not talking penicillin, antibiotics, aspirin, Mars Bars. I'm talkin' 'bout street drugs brother. Speed cut with Domestos, Julie Acid. Skag drugs. H. Henry the Horse. Harry the Hill, Howard the Goodall. Once, various mimsies decried the use of these fun recreational items (drugz) – 'Ooh no! you will git addicted and you will die like Bam Bam out of Grange Hill School' they squealed. Luckily these lust-less pipsqueaks have been righteously deposed by the forward-thinking warlocks and occultists who now run our sequinned cuntry. drugzzz make you confident, they make you live long and they bring you out of yourself. Let's fucking cook. Mother, bring me my drug onions, I'm going to make soup.
By the useful narrative device known as 'just making shit up' you have found yourself in New York's not-yet gentrified Bowery, in the very early 80s. Let's say it's 1981, or '82, it doesn't really matter because you are on so many drugs you could be anywhere. The drugs have, of course, made you super healthy and have given you a massive heart attack... No, that's wrong I meant to say massive appetite. Yes, you have a massive appetite because you have just taken a load of drugz. The only real downside of your massive drug consumption is that it uses up all your money and now all you've got left to eat is 4 – 6 brown onions, a few cloves of garlic, a pinch of 'brown' sugar, an unhealthy glug of vermouth or white wine, a litre of beef stock, scraps of leftover beef, a few slices of emmental cheese, and some French bread. Fantastically – and this is probably another by-product of your drug addiction – all these ingredients can be used to cook up an easy (and healthy - though not as healthy as your H) French Onion soup. Or for you, my junky friend – Drug Onion Soup.
So, Cook. Cook it cunt. Fucking cook you fucker. You Chinese fucking zoo man. You fucking no headed remedialist. Fucking stop fucking around fucking cook. Fuck-legged Fucker.
Heat up some oil in a heavy saucepan, now thinly slice the onions. That's slice not chop. Only retards chop, you my are a free thinker: a freetard. Freetards slice, retards chop. Now, with the drug onions all nicely sliced chuck 'em in the saucepan. Now cook on a high heat whilst continually stirring. The onions must not stick to the pan. Once golden and a little brown round the edges turn the heat way down. Chuck in the drug garlic and add a pinch of sugar. You're going to leave this mush of drug onions to very gently cook for about 25 minutes. Sweeten the fuck up. Now go outside and smash your head repeatedly against the sharp corner of an upended paving stone. (Optional.)
Now would be the perfect time to stick some drugs up your drug arms, that is after all the reason that God gave you six arms. So, the music to accompany this pot of fucked onions? You're probably thinking Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers. You were probably with Johnny last night at the Mudd club. Perhaps he was hitting you over the head with his guitar. Perhaps you are Johnny Thunders. It doesn't matter because we are not playing Johnny Thunders. We're going to go for something a little less obvious: Lou Reeds' 1978 live album 'Take No Prisoners.'
'Take No Prisoners' is a live album unlike any other. Throughout the 70s the live album became the de-rigueur contractual obligation album for the artist and ,for the punter, a cheap (they were usually doubles at single lp price) greatest hits bashed-through juke box. 'Take No Prisoners' is neither of these fucking 'things.' Recorded at New Yorks bottom line club, Lou in 'playful' mood murders his greatest songs (you get the impression on listening to this album that 'playful' for Lou would be murderous for anyone else) Over a backing band comprising of men mainly called 'Marty' and sounding only like an over-testosteroned E Street band. (If you don't like sax then you'll like it even less after listening to this.) Lou doesn't bother singing. He just harangues: the audience, the head of his record label, the critic Robert Christgau – who Lou calls a 'Toe fucker.' Lou even has an argument with himself. It's a shame that old Lou Reed has saddled himself with such a non-life enhancing reputation. 'Take No Prisoners' really is a blast in a NY wise guy punching himself (and everyone else) in the face kinda way.
Punch yourself in the face now you gouched out feckless goat. The drug onions are calling you, they are saying 'please mr junkie cover us in a leetle Vermouth so we bubble exitedly.' Do it now skag dad. Then add the stock and bring it to the boil and simmer, with saucepan lid off, for about an hour. Or until Lou Reed calls you a 'toe fucker.'
Now, you've got time to sing a song to the drug onions. Tell them you love them, and that you can't live without them. Tell them you are going to Reno with a man called Iain.
To serve, melt some emmental on to the french bread and chuck the toastie cheese bread into the drug onion soup. Now then Duncan, it's time to Plate. The. Fuck. Up.