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Living Loz
Rain down, rain down, come on rain down on me... 
25th-Apr-2010 10:10 pm
Triumph
One of my favourite comedy series of all time, without a doubt, is Posh Nosh.

Every episode is nine minutes worth of undignified laughter, with at least one snort, and rather too much glee.
Comments 
26th-Apr-2010 08:30 am (UTC)
I love how much work has gone into a series that's only eight episodes long, nine minutes per episode.
26th-Apr-2010 08:54 am (UTC)
EVERYTHING about it is perfect, including the gorgeous theme. *loves countertenors*

*suddenly imagines a Posh Nosh/Life on Mars crossover with Sam earnestly learning cooking tips from Simon*

*is ridiculously happy*
26th-Apr-2010 08:57 am (UTC)
I agree that everything about it is perfect. I love, love, love both Richard E Grant and Arabella Weir.

THAT IS AN AMAZING IDEA! It would have a niche audience, of er, three, at the very most? But it is brilliant!

Okay. I have to try this. Gimme a sec.
26th-Apr-2010 09:07 am (UTC)
*squees with joy*

Or Simon Marchmont being struck by a polo pony and finding himself in Manchester in 1973...

*knows that she is pushing it*
26th-Apr-2010 09:31 am (UTC)
I tried to incorporate that as well as I could. Er,...

:D
26th-Apr-2010 09:30 am (UTC)
Simon stood back as he watched elegant and skilled fingers swirl a whisk in four embezzled egg whites. What the hand lacked in speed was replenished in turning circle.

"Almost pleasant," he said, carefully bending forward and curving his own fingers around the slowly revolving wrist. "Not perfect, however. Imagine you're a chocolatier creating cobwebs for a beautiful young film star such as Rodrigo Santoro, you need to envision long strings of woven purity extending from your very tips."

"Er, alright," Sam replied, frowning slightly. His frown really was quite exquisite. Simon could smell the barest hint of Dalmore on his breath, a soupçon of cheap cigarettes in his hair. It was intoxicating. Oh, to be surrounded by beautiful diamonds gleaned from the very rough of life.

Sam edged away and glanced at Simon. "Is this any better?" he asked, uncertainly, quivering like the nervous colt that had knocked him off during his game of polo and left him in this Godforsaken place. Up North. The thought of it.

"It's looking wonderfully dishevelled," Simon confirmed.

"I like cooking," Sam said with an indulgent smile. "I like anything that brings creativity and order together, enmeshed and entwined until you can't pull them apart." He gained a wistful look in his dark honey-hued eyes.

Simon winced at his accent, whilst simultaneously revelling in it. The uncouth glory! Still, a point had to be made, and he wasn't afraid to make it.

"Any chef worth an ounce of organically gathered seasalt would sooner sew their lips together than refer to any practice in the kitchen with the vulgar term of 'cooking'."

"What should you call it, then?"

"The very nature of the action. Here, I am forfeiting. There, I am inflecting. One minute I might be censoring, the next ejaculating. There is no such thing as 'cooking'."

Sam raised his eyebrows, so expressive, so refined, and began to tithe the eggwhites into the spinach and ricotta. His lips twisted thoughtfully as he appliqued the zenith of ravaged parmesan.

"Hang on," Sam said suddenly, halting his movements and staring at Simon. His glare was intense and enthralling. Like sunshine bursting through a storm with wild, unchecked abandon, accompanied by music from Benjamin Britten. "Did you say Rodrigo Santoro? How could you possibly know who he is?"

Edited at 2010-04-26 09:35 am (UTC)
26th-Apr-2010 09:46 am (UTC)
*faints with sheer orgasmic delight*

Simon could smell the barest hint of Dalmore on his breath, a soupçon of cheap cigarettes in his hair. It was intoxicating. Oh, to be surrounded by beautiful diamonds gleaned from the very rough of life.

Soupçon! Rough! *now speechless with love for Loz*

"The very nature of the action. Here, I am forfeiting. There, I am inflecting. One minute I might be censoring, the next ejaculating. There is no such thing as 'cooking'."

That's me put in my place, then. And in perfect Simon voice ;-)

Thank you! Now I can go to sleep a happy woman <3 <3 <3

P.S. Benjamin Britten. Hee. This really is slashy from stem to stern.
26th-Apr-2010 09:50 am (UTC)
:p Glad you enjoyed it!
26th-Apr-2010 09:52 am (UTC)
P.S. Forgot to say that I love your use of Nosh!language... especially tithing the eggwhites and appliqueing the parmesan.

Truly it would be an honour to exasperate your tomatoes.
26th-Apr-2010 09:54 am (UTC)
The whole *point* was getting to use the silly language. It's my favourite thing of it. :D :D :D
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