Today is Wednesday, which for the staff at Marylebone Police Station means one thing. It's curry day. I enjoy a curry, really I do, as I love spicy food, and although the curry can be hit or miss, it is generally pretty good.
Today was a simple beef curry with rice. What could go wrong with that?
Evidently lots. I tucked into a freshly microwaved and cooked onto the plate curry, which was at temperatures not amiss in the centre of a nuclear reactor. I munched on a bit of "so overcooked it was solid" rice and decided to stir my curry, to mix up the sauce and to try and allow some of the volcanic heat to escape.
That was when I saw it. A tea bag. At least, i think it was a tea bag. It certainly looked like a tea bag. So I poked it a bit and it broke, spilling a little of its contents. I took a gentle wander towards the serving hatch and attracted the attention of the cook who told me it was a "herbal bag" (which I reckon you could normally arrest someone for the possession of). I have never in my 8 or so years of eating curries come across a herbal bag. In fact, I didn't know such a thing existed.
My curry didn't actually taste of tea, but I'm still not convinced that the cook wasn't trying to cover up her blunder and confuse me with culinary terms that I, as a man, just wouldn't understand.
Timmy "Tea in his lunch" Magic
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