Everyone has one friend
Who is a walking disaster area. Mine was called Andy, and I met him at Univeristy.

I could tell you a lot of stories about Andy - in fact I'm pretty sure I have in the past. Before becoming a student Andy had worked as a professional chef and he was a pretty damn good cook. Shame he couldn't do anything else to save his life, but there you go.

One weekend, I realised I hadn't seen him for a few days so I popped round to his flat. I found him lying on the sofa, looking ill so I asked him what the matter was. It transpired that having no financial sense at all he'd spent all his money on drink and drugs and had literally nothing left to spend on food. He hadn't eaten much for several days and was starting to feel the first effects of malnutrition.

I took pity on him, gave him ten pounds and told him to go and get himself something to eat. I cannot recall now why my largesse didn't extend to going and getting it for him, but I left him to it, pleased with my good deed, and went on my way.

I re-visited him later that day to the delicious smell of frying garlic. And when I got up into his kitchen I discovered that it was a complete wreck, filled with filthy dishes and encrusted pans. He'd spent all the money - every penny - on a pack of butter, some garlic, and some fresh baby squid and was frying them by coating an electric ring in butter, throwing on the garlic and the squid and turning them with his fingers.

I was very angry. I had assumed he might have stocked up on cheap bread and cheese, but no, he'd blown the lot on one gourmet meal without even having the equipment to cook it properly.

The anger abated when I discovered how delicious the squid were though.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Fri 27 May 2011, 11:03, Reply)