Stevie is planning a quality fuckin cook-up and hoping to avoid his so-called friends who will come around his flat, drink his beer and eat his chocolate cake. It’s a boozy old recipe with a good glug of port in the mixture:
Ah add the eggs and flour to the mixture and pour oan a drop of port. Ah hae a drop masel; it’s no bad, so I put some more intae the pan. The bottle’s soon finished. Ah’ve drunk half and the other half’s goan intae the mixture – greedy fuckin cake.
He’s got enough booze laid in to keep him going while it’s in the oven:
Ma heid is beginning tae throb again and ah decide it’s time tae hit the bevvies. Ah’ve enough cans of special tae see me through till the cookin’s over, if nae fucker comes in.
Unfortunately, his ‘friend’ Spammer turns up, along with Gav and Hiddy, two layabouts who work for the local funeral directors. They’re on the way to a funeral, but they daren’t leave the coffin in the hearse while it’s parked outside, as they’ve lost one body already. They come in with the deceased’s grieving girlfriend, Debbie, and start on the beer:
Gav and Hiddy hae forgotten their hurry and are hittin the bevvies, their feet up on Debbie’s boyfriend’s wooden overcoat.
As the cake is now cooked, it’s time for the icing, complete with a good measure of kahlua:
Kahlua’s a fuckin lassie’s drink, ah know, but it’s no bad in a cake.
At least the end result goes down well:
Spammer has by now drunk the rest of the kahlua, and is oot of his box, jumping around desperate for a piece of the brown stuff... We’re all soon stuffing our faces, though ah would’nae recommend the heavy as an ideal accompaniment.
It looks so good, I might try it myself, but I’ll take his advice and avoid the Special Brew...
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