Aussie Aussie Aussie, oi oi oi. Get that patriotic feeling flowing with a disgusting combination of foods that you never thought of combining. Now that New Zealand has shat all over our delusion of being the fair-go lucky-country by legalizing gay marriage before us, patriotic food might be our last bastion of national comfort. Here is a step by step guide for dulling the shame.
Get yourself a meat pie. I chose a square meat pie here but you could use circular meat pies if you want. Elliptical pies are also possible, but not recommended.
Now, furiously deploy your Hungry Jacks Whopper. No other Whopper will suffice. Resist the temptation to use a Burger King Whopper as it may result in gangrene.
Open that bitch right up. For those following along at home, behold, you approach the zenith of greatness! Don’t throw those pickles away either or I’ll come to your house and bash you bro.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
This meal is an incredibly good source of Iron, Man.
So there you have it. Tuck in and feel our backward country’s shame dissipate, as you fill yourself with bastardized national food.
As Australian as you can get without being a wobble-board-playing-sex-offender.
John quivered. The smell of bacon hung thick in the air.
He lifted the burger out of the bag, dazzled by her beauty. He’d never seen this particular burger presented so well. From the nutritional information that belied her subtle paper folds to the crispy fries that scattered from her bag like a deep fried halo. This image elicited a dark desire in John, he started to pull at her wrapping, salivating with carnal hunger. The wrapping offered no resistance save a sultry slop as the mayonnaise gave way.
A thin strip of lettuce dropped to the ground, unnoticed by the young and the hungry. Slipping his hands fully under the wrapper he felt her warm rounded buns, punctuated daintily by sesame seeds. Her tomato arched out towards John in response to his strong grip, wet, glistening and ripe.
John stopped and looked her slowly up and down;
Bun, lettuce, tomato, cheese, pattie, bacon, cheese, pattie…
He couldn’t restrain himself anymore and worked his lips around those exquisite buns. Biting and licking, the two became intertwined, a wild thrashing of limbs and gnawing of teeth. Cheese and sauce, pattie and bun in a culmination of every perceivable mastication fantasy. Then, in that most precious of spots, John turned his attention to the bacon, relishing in flavor and texture like a man possessed . Every fiber of his being dedicated to the perfect oral sensation; An electric feeling that rises from a barely perceivable craving, natural like a heartbeat, then wild and passionate as summer rains! Summer rains that smell of grease
and fingers slick with mayonnaise.