Blogging Dangerously

I realised today that this blogging lark is potentially very dangerous. Things that other bloggers post and the comments that they leave here have a real influence on my life.

Luckily this isn't much of a worry for me, as all of my readers write sober and thoughtful comments. They wouldn't dream of typing the first thing that comes into their head, regardless of the consequences they might have for me.

An example of this was Dan's "28 days" post about Lent. Dan's desperately looking for a way to welch on his decision to give up intoxicating liquor for Lent without incurring the wrath of God, the Church or the Wife.

It's amazing what some people will put up on YouTube. I mean, why???

In this post, he mentioned McDonald's Filet-o-Fish, perhaps one of the most ridiculously named fast food meals ever. It doesn't help that Americans can't say or spell "fillet". As a direct result of this post, I've been thinking about fish burgers for the last two days, until by this lunchtime I just had to have one.

Sometimes your comments don't influence me enough. The last time I complained about busy shops on a Saturday, Tracy recommended that I go at 7am like she does. Alas, for the first time ever I forgot her wise words. I was too busy thinking about fish.

So I ended up going shopping at midday. The crowds, my tiredness and my hunger all conspired to make this a less than enjoyable experience. It took me even longer to get round because I was looking for the ingredients to make a fish burger.

I knew where the cheese was, the bread, and the tartar sauce (that heavenly condiment is the reason that fish were invented in the first place). Unfortunately, I couldn't find any burgers. There were various breaded fish fillets, but none of the packets had serving suggestions that involved putting them into buns. Even some measurements would have helped - I didn't want to get them home to find that the packet contained whole fish suppers or something.

They do sell fish cakes, which look like burger-sized hunks of fish. Only they're burger sized hunks of potato with traces of fish droppings. At least that's roughly what they taste like. Even Helena, who loves most kinds of fish, won't touch those.

In the end I found some chunky fish fingers. These had a picture of the product between two slices of bread. Result! I put two of these in each sandwich, and I think you'd agree that they look the business, except for the rubbish photo. Making them at home meant that I could wash them down with some Irn Bru, which they don't sell in McDonalds, at least not south of the border.


Of course, I did have to cook them first, which involved heating up the oven and then waiting 22 minutes. Then I had to waste precious time taking photos of them for this blog (though sadly I didn't wait to check whether they were okay before I ate my meal). I could have keeled over and died of starvation in the process. And my relatives would be suing Dan.

I wonder how many blogging-related deaths and injuries there are each year?