Ask Wash!

How's things? Well aye, much the same here, sure. But never fear. I'm here to tell you I'm branching out a bit, so I am. Instead of just minding me long-suffering mates' affairs, I can now mind yours as well. So if you've ever wanted a Five Points thug for a meddlesome big brother, dispensing unwanted and possibly sodding terrible advice, now's your big chance! 

So ask away. I'm here for you, so I am.

 I'll be giving me answers on Mondays.

-Wash

ps.  Leave your question in the comments and the cranky old wan that manages all this mess will figure out how to set this section up. Or you can send me an email directly at gwmonahan{at}gmail.com.

-Wash

Q. Dear Wash,

My wife is going into labor! I don't know what to do! We live all the way out here in the country, and only have this internet connection, and I don't know anything about doctoring or being a father! Your advice would be greatly appreciated! 

-HELP!

A. Dear HELP!

Jaysus, lad! Don’t panic! The first thing you have to remember is not to panic. See, I know this because back in the Points, we all lived in a crowded building with paper-thin walls, so if anyone was in the family way, everyone within earshot knew about it. And the one thing I kept hearing was “don’t panic!”

The other thing I kept hearing was orders for the lads to boil water. I’m not sure what that was for, but I suspect it was to keep them busy so they had something other to do than panic.

Having said that, me boyo, I should probably go ahead and tell you that you have every reason to panic. I’m a bachelor, so I am, and me ma’s been long done with that sort of thing. So if it's sodding terrible advice you need, then you've come to the right place. I’ve heard a hell of a lot of panicking through the walls in me life. But since it’s just you and your lass, you can’t do that. So don’t. So keep things as clean as you can, hold your lass’s hand, and hope for the best. If all goes well, you’re going to end up with a baby whether you do or you don’t, so you might as well spare yourself the trouble.

Near as I can tell, that’s the easy part. The hard part is what comes next, where you have to be a da. The stuff you have to do and know to be a da are a lot harder to get right. Your wee bairn will think you keep the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky, and just for them. And in a way, he or she will be right. 

-Wash

Q. Dear Wash,

How can I fall out of love with someone?

Sincerely,

Smitten in Shijiazhuang

A. Dear Smitten,

Out of all these questions, I think you’ve asked the one I dinna think I can answer, so you have. I say that because I haven’t figured it out meself.

I’ve been smitten with girls that turned out to very, very bad for me, so I have. And to be honest, the best thing in a case like that is to let meself go on and get angry about the way things turned out. Hurt and anger are probably equally painful, but anger’s a whole lot easier to get over and walk away from.

If it’s a case where there’s no reason to get angry, aye, well, that’s a bit harder, so it is. When I realized I was going to have to live my life without me sweet Dorcas, I’m being honest with you when I tell you I didn’t think I could go on. It was the heaviest thing in me life, so it was. And I still love her. I always will. And I’ve reached a point in me life where that’s what keeps me going.

I’ve gotten meself blue blind paralytic drunk, so I have. Gotten into some fine, fine rows down at the Star and spent the night bloody and in jail for it. Taken out me foul mood on me mates and acted the right prick. Still wake up in the morning all banjaxed up, sure as the sun shines.

It might not go away, but it changes. Eases up a bit. Lets you step back and enjoy the good bits, how it’s changed you and maybe given you a little wisdom and strength. You don’t get those things without some heartache, That’s how life pays you for your pain, so make sure you take all of what’s owed you.  You worked hard for it, and bled for it, and it’s your hard-won prize. So grit your teeth and take it all.

I don’t know if you and your wan have parted ways, or never were together in the first place. I’m nae going to sit here and tell you you’ll find someone else. We both know it’s nae that easy. But I can say that at some point, it won’t hurt so much and will scar over some, so it will, and you’ll be wise enough and tough enough for what comes next, whatever that may be. I know, I know, it sounds sodding stupid, so it does. Careless, even. But it seems to be true, at least for me.

But here’s the thing, me lad or lassie, and come here to me now and listen. Don’t let it make you hard. Don’t let that scar turn into armor. Because if you’re too intent on keeping the bad stuff out...well, then you keep the good stuff out as well, so you do.

And you don’t want to miss out on the good stuff. Because it’s good. And there’s a lot of it.

-Wash

Q. Mr. Wash, what do you think each of your fellow riders and yourself would be doing at this point in time, If you were not riding mail? 

-Amy Simeister

A. Dear Miss Simeister

Lass, that’s a good question, so it is. And one I have thought about more than once meself. I’m pretty sure I know what Saint would be doing.  He came out here looking for other work than mining, so he did. He’d most like have gotten a job at the Silver Star keeping the peace. He spends time there and knows everyone, after all, and he’s good enough with a pistol. And better even than that with his fists. I almost wish he’d do that now. It would at least keep him out of the cold, so it would, and I worry for him sometimes. Working outside in the cold is hard on his lungs, don’t you know.  

But I’m glad he hasn’t. He's a wanker, but I'd miss him if he shifted off the crew.

Storm’s an easy one, so he is. He’d be working for the army, sure, as a scout. That’s what he did before. And I’m sorry to say this...but I think he’d be dead. I know, I know. It’s sodding morbid.  But look what happened out at Pyramid Lake when the army went out there. It was a bloodbath, so it was. Over a hundred well-armed men dead, not including the homesteaders.  He’d have been right there in the thick of it. Him being Crow wouldn’t have protected him. If anything, it would have put a target on him.  I don’t like thinking about it, but the Old Man and Fiona saved his life. Lynch for bringing him here and Fiona for keeping him here.

Tommy’s a hard one to figure. Can a sixteen year old laddie be a schoolmaster? Is that too young? If not, then it would be a fine job for the likes of him. Maybe he’d end up being like his heroes, Charlie Darwin and Johnny Audubon, and be someone who runs around with a notebook and mud all over his pants, studying his weeds and creepy-crawlies.

Luis, I’m  sorry to say, would be most likely a thief. Might be in jail. Might even be dead. Understand me, Lass, when I tell you this I don’t mean to speak ill of the lad. I don’t. He was a thief when he came to work for Lynch because he was starving and because he was alone and because he didn’t have much sodding choice. I’m not blaming him. But it’s just the way it was, and most likely how it would still be if not for the Old Man.

Bender’s easy, too. A farrier can find work out here anywhere, anytime. And one that can be a doctor if needs to be? He doesn’t need us near as much as we need him.

Jesse’s from a farm family, but I don’t think that’s what he’d be doing now if he didn't run mail. After all, he’d left for greener pastures before he found us. I can almost see him working as a trapper. He seems to know a bit about hunting and fishing and is a fair hand at building things. So, I’ll go with either trapper or a homesteader.

Aye, and that leaves just meself, so it does. And I have three things I am good for. One, I can sing, so I can. But there’s not so much use for that out here, outside of a church. And I prefer to stay outside of a church, I’m sorry to say. Two, I can play a fiddle better than anyone out here. Now, keep in mind that nobody else plays fiddle out here, so it doesn’t take much to be the “best” player.. And also keep in mind I sold me fiddle a lifetime ago to keep from starving. Three, I’m a dead wicked shot, so I am. Short arm, long arm, slingshot, no matter to me.  If I aim to hit something, I’m going to hit it. Now, back in the Five Points, I was a guard. The Five Points was a rough place, so it was, and when goods...mostly whiskey and such... moved from one place to another, it was wise to have some muscle there to make sure they got where they meant to go. That was me. I guess I’m doing the same sodding thing now as then. And if I wasn’t, there’s plenty of need for man who can shoot out here. Probably work for the law or for the army, if nothing else came my way. 

I know I crib about the job a wee bit, Lass. But now that I've laid it out like this and look at it...it looks pretty good, so it does.  So thanks for helping me put it into perspective.

-Wash

 

Q. Dear Wash,

I have the opportunity to take a really long vacation and money is not an issue. The only problem is, I can't decide where to go! I figure you're a well-traveled guy; so I thought I'd ask if you could choose any two places in the whole world to spend a few weeks, where would you go? I say two because I'm going to flip a coin on your two choices and let fate decide the rest? How's that for adventure? Also, I've never been far from home so any travel advice you might add would be greatly appreciated.

Signed,
American Lass Looking for Adventure 

 
A. Dear American Lass,

Well, me bonny girl, the good news is that I have traveled in me lifetime two thousand miles, from a city so bricked up you could scarcely see the ground to a land so open and wild you could see the bones of the earth. I’ve been through changing landscapes and all the weather you can imagine and all manner of regions and people.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is I was either out cold or out of me head with fever and don’t remember any of it.

Aye. So it was that I came to be at the Green. Spent the entire trip out here in the back of a westbound stage recovering from a knife fight I lost. Well, in all honesty, it was less a fight and more just a straighforward stabbing.  So I can’t tell you much about the two thousand miles between here and Manhattan.

But the Five Points, that I can tell you about. I grew up there, so I did. Don’t believe what you hear, lass, It’s not as bad as all that.  I’ve never heard music again the likes of what we had back home. It’s well worth the trip. Almack’s in particular, used to go there most nights. Dorcas played fiddle there, so she did. Pardon me, she played violin.

Personally, I wouldn’t go there, because I’m sure they’d all be waiting to finish off the job they started last time. It wouldn’t be safe for me. But you should be fine, lass, sure. Nobody would know you there, right? Just avoid wearing blue stripes on your britches.

Well, avoid red ones, too. Just to be safe. Aye, and I dinna ken you’d be wearing a stovepipe hat? Just don’t wear one. Or a black vest, just to avoid trouble.

Or a red shirt.

Hm. You might be alright if you wear a pink dress. I don’t think there’s a gang that’s wearing pink dresses. And if there is, you probably don’t have to worry too much about them.

Also, if you go, lass, you might want to avoid drinking the water.  It’s been known to kill people, so it has. Probably best to stay away from the pond best you can. In fact, just avoid Slaughterhouse Street all together. Someone stole the street sign to make a shillelagh out of, but never fear, no danger of you going there by accident, just turn around and go the opposite direction when the stench hits you.

Oh, and stay out of the warehouse district at night. Maybe during the day, too.

Don’t ask questions about that, lass, just heed me, now.

Aye, then, so you need a second choice. Well, how about the Green? I liked it well enough, so I did. I stopped here, didn’t I? There’s less to do here, sure, but then, there’s a shorter list of things you ought to avoid, too, so it balances out.

For one thing, it smells better. It smells pretty good in fact, especially on a warm day. And the water’s a whole lot less likely to catch on fire.

Not a lot by way of entertainment, I’m sorry to say. Although we have a fine place to eat here run by a German lass. And you can wear whatever you like.  In fact, you can wear all the striped britches you want anywhere in town, and nobody’s the wiser. I bet I could wear a stovetop hat down the main street and not get me head shot off. So that’s a fine change, it is.

Also, if you decide on the Green, you could have the added bonus of a handsome Irish lad to squire you about on his arm. I have grown right fond of German food, so I have.

-Wash




Q. Does this make my butt look big?

Wondering

A. Dear Wondering,

Aye, well, it doesn’t make it look any smaller, if that’s what you’re asking.

You’re a cute hoor, so you are, and don’t think for a minute I don’t know you’re taking the piss.

Having said that, I dunno if you’re a lass or a bloke. If you’re a lass, do us blokes a kind turn and don’t ever, ever ask us that. There’s nary a way to answer it. We can say yes (even if it’s true) and get called unkind wanker, or say no (even if it’s a lie) and you’ll say we’re lying wankers.

You ask us if you’re arse looks big, and we’re wankers either way. The only real difference is what particular kind of wankers we are.

Don’t do this to us, lass.

Now, if you’re a bloke...well...lad, I got no help for you. What kind of lad asks a question like that about his arse? Jaysus. It looks like fifteen pounds of bangers and mash stuffed into a ten pound poke by someone very, very drunk. Happy now?

As for the rest of you lads, if your girl (or any girl, for that matter) ever asks you this question, the proper way to answer it is to either kiss her till she forgets she asked it, or run far, far away.

Do not get sucked into answering the question under any circumstances. Don’t lie. Don’t be honest. Do what you have to do to avoid answering it. That’s my advice to you. I won’t be held responsible for what might happen if you bollocks it up and end up the wanker.

-Wash

Q. Don't know what to do. My bosses daughter figured she is preggers  and she says to me we best hitch up and quick. Then she went and told her pa we was to. Now he says to kill me if he can catch me. On the run. No place to go. Should I head back and face to get killed and married up? How did this happen?

Innocent ranchhand

A. Dear "Innocent"

How did this happen? Well, lad, sometimes when a bloke and a lass fancy each other very, very much, (and sometimes when they don't, but they've found their way to the bottom of  many, many pints) they lie together very closely and do a special kind of hug. 

And you're a howling, fecking eedgit, so you are. Sod your girl's pa, I'd kill you myself, so I would. 

Jaysus.

I don't know where you're writing from, but it's the truth to say if if any of the lot of us did what you just described, there'd be no hiding for us. The Old Man would find us and that would be all for us. I don't even know if Storm has knocked boots with Fiona (I'm thinking no, because if he had, he'd probably be in a better mood.), but I'm being straight with you when I tell you Lynch is probably going to have the lad's guts for garters. 

I know I encouraged him, so I did. I don't regret giving him that advice, and he won't regret taking it. But I know there's a price to be paid and so does he. 

I get it. The heart wants what it wants. Sometimes, it isn't just the heart that wants what it wants, if you follow me. But you had to know doing the bold thing with the Boss's daughter might well get you shot in the fecking face, sure.

But all that aside, you can't leave the lass in the family way. So you have to go on back and hope the mad old dick has cooled off enough to not leave his grandbabe without a da.

Congratulations. My wedding gift is I won't pan your head in. You're sodding welcome. 

Tosser.

-Wash

Q. Dear Wash,

What do you think of the election?

-Anonymous

A. Ah, me. Aye, they are starting some rumblings about that, so they are. So funny you should ask me that now...word came down the line that not too long ago, they nominated some swarthy bloke with giant ears to run.

I’m going to be straight with you, friend. I hate politics. There was nothing but politics back in the Five Points, and all being mixed up in it got me was me entire life going up in smoke and a knife in me guts. There’s nothing left of me or me old life, so in a way, you could say politics got me killed, I suppose.

Learned me lesson, so I did. Fresh start out here, sure. Don’t intend to go pissing in the well again. And anyways, what’s it to me? It’s not like they’ll ever vote an Irishman in, right? They’re all too hung up on class and color and money, don’t you know, though I’m not too sure who’s left, after they’re done sorting through all the unwashed masses. I mean, take me and Dorcas, for instance. I’m the whitest lad I know, and Dorcas was colored, and neither of us are considered “polite society.”

If anyone Irish or Colored ever got voted in, someone would probably get sent to take a shot at them, so they would. I don’t envy them.

But I admit I admire their sand.

So I don’t know much about this lad Lincoln on the ballot. But good for him, and maybe he’ll win, though I doubt it. He’s too dark and he’s too poor. But if he does... it might set the world on it’s head.

-Wash




Q. Dear Wash,

Do you prefer girls that are brainy, beautiful, or funny?

-Val

PS. I like gingers, “so I do.”
 

A. Dear Val Who Likes Gingers, So She Does

First of all, I should tell you that I like a lass who likes gingers, so I do. A lass who is fond of  the likes of me is, of course, a brainy lass. And I don’t think a lass would like of me unless she was someone who liked to laugh.

I can’t think of a more beautiful lass than one that was clever and frolicsome enough to give me the sweet look or act the linnet with me.  

So I suppose the short answer here is “Aye.”

You know, when I got asked if I wanted to do this advice column thing, I said yes for a reason.

Well, the main reason I said yes is because when the old wan asked me to do it, she didn’t really phrase it as a question, if you follow me. “You’re doing it, Irish.” she said to me, so she did, and that was that.

But aside from that, the main reason I wanted to do it was because I knew I’d end up talking to girls. I’m not an eedgit.

And I like girls, make no mistake, me lass. I am not a man who finds a lot of fault in me fellow man, and find in less of it in the fairer sex. And I’ve  never met one yet I was was unable to find some beauty in. And everyone’s smart at something, so they are, if you just find out what it is.

But a lass that can say “sod it” and laugh when the world’s falling down around your ears..that’s smart...and beautiful.




-Wash

A. Dear Wash,

Do you have any advice on avoiding getting sunburned when working outside?

Anonymous

Q. Aye, I do, and it’s foolproof, so it is.

Avoid working outside whenever you can.

Aye, I know that sounds a bit backwards, considering what I do to earn me bread. I know I spend quite a bit of time sat atop a wagon in the sun. Not much help to be had with that, I admit. If it simply can’t be helped, make sure the sun is shining on as little skin as possible. I always wear a big hat (about me hat... that picture up there shows me wearing a right wee hat. Me hat’s bigger than that. And no, I’m not sodding compensating for anything.). Anyways, I always wear a hat with a wide brim, long sleeves, and gloves. And I still manage to come back to the Green after a run with me face pink as a baby’s bottom and freckles all over me cheeks and nose. All this while me mate spends the trip growing darker and darker. I’ve only seen that tosser burn once or twice.

Sodding unfair, so it is. I’d give anything for something I could smear on me hide to make it a little more sun-proof. Been well and truly banjaxed by too much sun more than once, so I have.

As for the working outside, I wasn’t taking the piss. When the weather’s fine, I’d rather work outside, sure. Who wouldn’t? But it’s not worth the pain later. So I volunteer for the jobs nobody else wants. Like helping shovel the stables and load hay into the loft. And I’ve mopped down the kitchen or the house for the lasses more than once. There’s better chores, sure, but not many that let you talk to sweet lasses while you’re doing them.

The lads haven’t really thought all this through. Here’s to hoping they don’t.

And when it’s warm out, there’s something to be said for gardening in the rain. The lads think I’m off me nut, but I’ll weed Fiona’s garden in the summer if it’s raining. We didn’t have gardens like that in the Five Points, and I never knew how calming the damp earth could feel in your hands.

And besides, if you spend the day in the rain, while on your knees in the dirt, nobody asks you to do anything else later. So you’re alone with your thoughts (dim as they may be, in me own case), warm water running over your skin and the smell of the earth in your nose, and your mates think you’re some kind of daft martyr instead of thinking you might have actually enjoyed it.

You can get the upper hand when divvying up the chore list doing stuff like that, so you can. 


-Wash

 

Little Bothers...I mean, brothers

Q. Dear Wash,

My little brothers Liam and Dylan just turned five and they're starting to have some nasty habits. Lately Liam has been picking his nose and wiping his boogeys on my shirts, leaving dead frogs in my bed, and putting blue food coloring in my toiletries. Dylan's even worse. He puts old vegetables from the compost bin in my shoes, torments the dog and always eats off my plate at dinner. It's the food stealing that really gets to me. I really do love food. How do I get them to stop being such brats....or get back at them?

Your fellow Irish ginger,
Maebh

A. Dear Maebh,

Are you sure you’re not talking about Luis? Change the frogs to fish offal and it sounds an awful lot like what the little bastard did to Saint.

Fecking brilliant, so it was.

Aye, lass, I’ll be serious now. Brothers. That’s a tough one, so it is. Truth be told, I’m not sure I should even be advising you on this, since me own brother turned out to be such a useless sodding tosser. He turned out well and truly bad, and not bad in the way you’re surely thinking your own lads are bad.

Wiping a boogey on a shirt? That’s the work of a lad whose balls haven’t dropped, that is. No, lass, a boogey is not something to be losing sleep over. I’ve woken up with worse on me face in the bunkhouse and still not considered it brutal. If you’re pissing blood or needing stitches after one of their “wee pranks”, then maybe you have something to worry about. Otherwise, they’re just taking the piss.

Well, other than the food pinching that’s going on. That’s brutal.

Well, I did say the advice given in this column might be sodding terrible advice. So I will remind you of that when I tell you that it sounds like you need to embark on a reign of terror.

Treachery, me bonny girl. Time to do a little piss-taking of your own.

Literally.

They like to dye things blue, so they do? They like to steal your food? We should be able to do better than wee lads, eh? Next time you go to town, go see the doc. Tell him you need something because you’re suffering from the malaria. He’ll give you some nasty green powder. Hide a pinch under your poppies at your next meal and let the little buggers make off with them. Later, when they’re wondering why they’re pissing bright blue, tell them that’s how the Devil marks bad lads he plans to take away with him for nicking their sister’s potatoes and acting the maggot. See how much they like blue then, so we will.

And while we’re on the subject of maggots, I’m betting your shoes getting filled up with gifts from the midden will stop if you start shaking them out over their beds before you put them on.

And above all...and this is most important, so come here to me, lass, and listen...hug them a lot.

Especially Dylan.

-Wash




Q. Dear Wash,

The girl I'm in love with just had a restraining order filed against me after finding me camped out in her bushes. That means she really likes me too, right? I was thinking of surprising her with an engagement ring in her mailbox on Valentine's Day. Is that too soon? Should I wait a little longer? I just want everything to be perfect and I know that being with her will make life complete. Do you have any advice on what to do?

Thanks,
Head over heels


A. Dear Head,

Jaysus, a restraining order, eh? A filed one? Methinks your wan likes to play rough, so she does. Me own dear lass held one against me the day we met. Jammed it right under me ribs so hard I still have a little white mark where it drew blood. So you say you were bunked down in the brush somewhere and the lass came at you with a shiv, eh?  

The idea gives me a fine little tingle, so it does.

Now, having said that, I should probably tell you that when we met, Dorcas hated me. She wasn't holding a knife because she was into that sort of thing. Dorcas was holding a knife because she was thinking to kill me.

Now ther are some lasses into that, sure. Take Fox down at the Silver Star for instance. If your lads tell you the lady hates men, believe them. That's all I'm saying. Probably not gonna kill you, but let's just say her idea of fun ain't gonna be the same as your idea of fun and leave it at that.

Or hell, maybe it is. In which case, marry her. Now.

So, tell me about this restraining order. The one Dorcas gave me was, and I quote as best I can remember, “ I will dump your filthy Mick guts in the street and leave you to the rats.”

I'm thinking if your lass said anything like that, then Valentine’s Day is probably a little too soon to give her a ring. You might have to take some time and effort to convince her that you’re nae Satan. No I'm not telling tall tales. Dorcas pretty much thought I was the devil. Aye, that devil.
If your lass thinks you are Beelzebub,  you might have a rocky road ahead. Proceed cautiously.
Because I'll tell you what else will make your life complete... a shank in your sodding liver.

That'll sodding well complete you, so it will.

So my advice to you is to figure out what kind of “completing your life” your wan has in mind. Because you need to make fecking well sure it's the same as the one you have in mind if the idea of getting eaten by rats does not appeal to you.

-Wash




Q. Dear Wash,
 I have a problem with dry skin in the wintertime. What do you suggest?
Thanks! 
J. Sizzler

 A. Dear J. Sizzler
Aye, and don't you know I have the same sodding problem? Jaysus, the peeling and the itching. Nobody's gladder than me to see spring on it's way. I find not washing helps. It doesna help me bunkmates, but it helps me, sure. But I'm betting a lady such as yourself isna keen on that idea. So, if you can get away with it, soap no more than once day, if that. And if you can find a soap without the sudsy stuff, more's the better. All those bonny wee bubbles are there because something's in your soap that's na so good for your skin. (The old wan is looking over me shoulder to make sure I'm minding me language, and she's saying "no sulfites." So avoid whatever that is. )

I dunno about that, but I can tell you less soap I use, the less I scratch. 

The old wan says try this soap or maybe the Dove for sensitive skin. She also says try this stuff if you need a moisturizer. That's what she uses. 

Drink plenty of water, and don't be afraid to put extra butter on your biscuits. 

-Wash



Q. Dear Wash,

I'm thinking of holding a dinner party for about 10 people, and I would really appreciate some advice on what to cook.

Everyone invited will most likely be a lawyer, so the food needs to be rather fancy. Probably a 5 or 7 course dinner, with at least 8 different types of hors d'oeuvres and a choice of three desserts, two palate-cleansing sorbets, a soup course, salad, and a few different side dishes to accompany the entree. Also wine or an apertif to go with each course.

Additionally, everything would need to be vegan, gluten free, made entirely from scratch from organic, non-processed ingredients, and free of sugar and all varieties of tree nuts.

Is there anything that you could recommend to help me with this dilemma, since I hear you know your way around a kitchen.

-Anon


A. Dear Anon,

You've asked the right lad, so you have. I do know me way around the kitchen. In fact, I know where Fiona's hiding the honey. I don't tell me mate because I'm not stupid enough to want the lass angry at me.

And, of course, I want honey on me own biscuits.  

But we're nae here to talk about that, we're here to talk about your fancy chicken fixings, so we are. Lawyers, eh? Hm. I admit, that leaves me scratching me head. The last one to sit at our table ended up with a mouthful of hobnails and didn't like that much, so I'm guessing you want to do one better than a punch in the mouth for the lot of them. Although I can't imagine why.

To each his own. I'm guessing you aren't the type for the more direct approach. So subterfuge it is. I dinna know much French that isn't swearing, but I'm thinking what you want to start with is 8 types of Horse and Dover's. Excellent choice, although admittedly, sitting to supper in a room full of sweating lawyers, all of who really need to hit the privy might be a little uncomfortable. Doc Plunkett can probably set you up with the Dover's Powder (if you really want to be brutal about it, use a lot and then wedge your outhouse door shut. ).  The knacker's can probably sell you some old horses for a bargain.

Horse Recipe:
1. shoot horse.
2. cut up horse.
3. Boil until you can chew it.

I asked someone what “vegan” meant and they said something about eating just vegetables. So make sure the horses you get haven’t been given any beer ever. Otherwise, it’s probably a safe bet they just eat grass. So you should be fine on that account, sure.

"Merda, Wash?" Is that what he just said? What's that supposed to mean? Saint was looking over me shoulder. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and is walking away shaking his head.  

Sodding tosser. Anyways...

You need a “palate cleanser” AND soup. Methinks you can kill two birds with one stone with this one. Three, actually. Take the water you used to boil the horses. If you had the forethought to throw the hooves in there (for flavor, you know), just have your guests gargle with it and then swallow it. Soup that cleans out the old cake-hole. Multi purpose, so it is. And the horse has probably already eaten plenty of salad in its life, so that’s covered as well.

I know! Sodding genius, so it is. Take that, Saint, you smug wanker.

Ayes, now, for the afters. I know you can really dress up a biscuit with a little blackstrap or honey.

Biscuit Recipe:
1. Put enough water into some flour to mix it together.
2. Form into biscuit shapes.
3. Bake until hard.
4. Dump enough butter and honey onto biscuit so that it’s all you can taste. If you can’t chew it, add more butter and honey until you can.

All this is made with scratching going on. See the previous question by J. Sizzler. As for it being organic and gluten-free, well, if you’re being picky, you can use the sweetbreads (organs) from the horse (not me favorite, admittedly, but not bad, either.) and, obviously, don’t use the ass. The gluteus is tough anyways. And if you’re avoiding all nuts, probably ought to avoid that part of the horse, too, just to be safe.

Wine with everything. Yes. I agree wholeheartedly. I would normally recommend beer or whiskey to go with everything, but these are lawyers, so they are. So, wine it is. Give yourself a week’s lead time for the wine.

Wine Recipe:
1. Get a bucket.
2. Fill with water.
3. Add some old fruit (dried, fresh, old, whatever you have on hand), some honey (see what I did there? I avoided sugar for you. You’re welcome.), some tea if you have it. Whatever you can find.
4. Shove some moldy bread into a sock. This is a fancy dinner, so try to use a clean one. Throw that in.
5. Shove under a bed for about a week. It’s done when taking the lid off burns your eyes.
6. Strain.
7. Sláinte!

I didn’t put a main course, because if you put enough Dover’s in the horse dish, and make enough wine, you won’t need one.








-Wash