'Oh Snail, Oh Snail' and May Supper Club Dates

I don't do it often but on occasion, I do like to lend a literary bent to proceedings at the Food Urchin Supper Club. Or sometimes interject a burst of free form jazz on the harmonica to liven things up a bit and at our most recent event, held last Saturday, our guests were treated to both. Now poetry is subjective and personal and yet, it is also open to interpretation so I wasn't entirely sure whether to publish 'Oh Snail, Oh Snail' on the blog. But given the reaction I got from around the table (that of stunned silence), I feel that it would be remiss of me to hold back, what could be, a very important piece of work from the general public. Yes, 'Oh Snail, Oh Snail' could very well be the 'Howl' of our generation. Except it is much, much shorter.

But before I unleash this ode, this ballad, this pining paean for the obliteration of a much maligned garden pest, it would probably do well if you try and imagine this poem read with an Essex accent. Brace yourselves.

Oh Snail, Oh Snail......

Oh Snail, Oh Snail
in your house made of shell
you plunder my garden
you make my life hell

Oh Snail, Oh Snail
you damn gastropod
why don't you leave me alone?
why don't you sod off?

Oh Snail, Oh Snail,
with your goo and your slime
I see your trails everywhere
there's no concealing your crimes

Oh Snail, Oh Snail,
you cause me such grief
eating my sorrel plant
do you have any teeth?

Oh Snail, Oh Snail
I wish you death
and that's spelt with a 'th'
and not with an 'f'

Now, how I am going to top that for the next supper club, which is happening on May 19th, well I don't know. The menu itself is a delicious but perhaps melancholic fingers up to seasonality, totally out of character with the time of year. But given that we are supposed to be getting so much more poxy rain throughout the month, something warming and comforting seemed fitting.

Something like this:

Beetroot Cured Mackerel with Horseradish 

Boeuf Bourguignon, Dauphinoise Potatoes and Spring Greens

Truffle Torte

In terms of conjuring up some verse for that night, rather than wax lyrically about the weather, perhaps I will focus on the utility companies that perpetually and daily fill up football stadiums with leaked water. I might even write a song of protest to accompany the harmonica. A witty, folky, ditty along the lines of A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall, rallying against stand pipes instead of nuclear war. Whatever the subject matter, I am sure we can make it fun.

If you would like to reserve a place then please email me at foodurchin@yahoo.co.uk

Suggested donation for this one is £20 which includes bread, palate cleanser and free glass of rainwater. Vegetarian options available on request.