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)
French bread
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.
