Boiled spuds and peas are outflanked by 2wo lovely garlic sausages from Muff's the award winning butchers in Bromborough on the Wirral, England.

A sporting splodge of mustard awaits on the side. Oh !

A lamb steak has a greasy sexual encounter with some highly aroused spring onions. They used sweated spinach as a lubricant.

HP sauce glistens hopefully atop a sprawl of oven chips as peas cascade like a waterfall captured in a moment of time from the edge of a spicy coated chicken-burger. Steam rises heavenward.

A leaky steak 'n' kidney pie appears to be mounting a boiled spud undercover of some spinach. Never have I witnessed such naughtiness.

6ix empty escape pods orbit the Mothership. They have been assimilated.

A plate load of dead chicken is invited to lie down with some bubble 'n' squeak and an assortment of pickles. It was all washed down with a bottle of red.

This is beans on toast New Zealand style. Supplemented by a bottle of scrumpy to add to its refreshmentabilility.

The Holy Grail of light breakfasts. 2wo crumpets are being dished up with a fried egg and a brace of bacon slices.

This fabled meal represents religion. The 4our pieces of bacon represent the 4our horsemen of the Apocalypse while the the 3hree sausages signify the Holy Trinity.

Here we see 3hree thickly sliced slabs of corned beef being put under house arrest by fried spuds with a few fried sprouts together with rather too many peas and some pickles.

This is a better planned meal. Bacon cooked with onion and pasta and some garlic. Is was followed by whisky and di-hydrogen monoxide.

Another fine mess I got myself into. Fried eggs mingle furtively with some fried spuds and half a tin of Beanz 'n' Sausages.