The Best Australian Humorous Writing by Andrew O'Keefe

Author:Andrew O'Keefe
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780522859195
Publisher: Melbourne University Press

MARIEKE HARDY

Lashings of lust curved up by Nigella

I get the sneaking suspicion—and I’m quite happy to be proven wrong here—that a large portion of the sisterhood isn’t all that keen on Nigella Lawson. We like food, certainly. Some of us are also partial to boobies, and innuendo, and ladies with big, round bottoms, but even then Nigella seems to make selected members of the wymmyn’s network slightly suspicious.

Perhaps it’s the chocolatey vowels and habit of rolling herself all over the preparation space in a fashion that would be considered deeply unhygienic by most food and safety officers. Perhaps it’s the overly posh “grahnd piahno and plahstic bahgs” business. It could even be the high-waisted trou. Most of all, though, I’m guessing what many folk get their knickers slightly twisted about is the heavy lashings of sauce. And I’m not referring to the lady’s condiments pantry.

The unadulterated in-your-face smorgasbord of sexuality—for let us not pretend for a moment Nigella Feasts is anything but—is on display from the opening credits. A pair of lusty red animated lips opens up and makes good work of a glistening cherry. A curvaceous lemon is lustily sliced in two. A line of asparagus spears stand firm and erect, presumably awaiting a thorough blanching.

There’s absolutely no escaping the orgiastic celebration of pulsating lust. Even in moments of idle chitchat Nigella sounds as though she’s moments away from opening the door to a team of rowdy sailors looking for rumpo and giving them a full oil and lube. “I find it really … hard …” she breathes, gazing longingly into the lens, before throwing in as an almost whispered verbal postscript, “… to zest citrus fruit”. “OOOOH, JUICY JUICY!” she climaxes later still, when a wayward lime threatens to drench the camera crew with its pulpy innards. By the time she gets elbow-deep into kneading some raw lamb mince you’ll be forced to cover the eyes of your children and lead them from the room with firm instructions to go directly to bed with a cold wash cloth. Why Nigella doesn’t just cut out the middleman and strip naked while pounding the mince into submission with her buttocks is beyond me. At the very least it would lay down a not uninteresting gauntlet to Kylie Kwong.

Anyway, all that innuendo and trite “tee hee, we’re so naughty in the kitchen together” business shouldn’t work, it really shouldn’t. It’s too needy; too in-your-face and wanting to be fondled, like your year 11 art teacher who perhaps shouldn’t be let loose around teenage boys after one too many rum babas at the school formal. Who among us not attending Sex Addicts Anonymous actually describes yoghurt as “voluptuous”, or employs the idiotic term “stir as if you meant it”? I wanted to write Lawson off as an oversexed dandy with a bitching shelf and leave her to her sticky, dollybird kitchen and seductively shiny accoutrements. I wanted to denounce the lame celebrity chef phenomenon and turn my back on school marm-ly British femmes with wealthy husbands and a penchant for nosh.

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