Soufflés and other let downs

Guido has spent almost all his spare time so far this week trying to create the perfect blue cheese soufflé.   God it’s tough living with a chef.  Let’s just say we’ve had no highs and quite a few gooey lows over the past few days. Eggs have been scrambled and the Spanish word “Mierda” has been screamed a lot.  Honestly my enthusiasm for veined stilton just isn’t what it used to be.  I am surprised the process hasn’t left us both egg bound.  The tension whilst waiting for the oven door to open on an evening makes the Cuban missile crisis look like a daft misunderstanding.  

But, a soufflé turning out to be a pile of pants is nothing compared to what I’ve been through.

The pink wedding tuxedo I ordered via my dubious internet tailor, Haziq in Kuala Lumpur, arrived.  I‘d be lying if I didn’t tell you I had fears right from the off.  Haziq seemed more interested in my payment methods than my inside leg measurements.  Here’s a snappy three word line from an email exchange I had with him.  See below.


 Far be it from me to be grammatically picky but the over use of capitalisation and the exclamation mark makes their impact seem somewhat superfluous to me.  They should be reserved for use in only cases of extreme emphasis, when emphasis is needed.  See example below.


The tuxedo arrived in an envelope no bigger that the size of our gas bill.  I thought it must be a cloth sample.  But no, it turned out to be the entire suit. 

“Do you think this is going to fit?” I said to Guido unwrapping it and holding it up against my chest. 

“Who have you got in mind going into it?” Guido asked, “The Incredible Shrinking Man?” 

It’s true, I’d have to lose half my body weight.  The lapels barely covered a nipple.  Whilst the trouser legs tapered to a fashionable point, actually pulling them on was going to probably involve a shoe horn and a cast of thousands.  As for dressing to the left or the right the only viable option I could see working was going to be straight up the middle.  Though I’m not sure the crotch would withstand the G force of yanking the zipper.  Attempting the latter was certainly something Guido and I could try out on a wet afternoon when we had nothing better to do but eat sloppy eggs. 

I picked up the phone and called Malaysia.  I knew it was Haziq because he spoke in capitalisation and exclamation.  So did I. He said he’d put me through to his customer service department but I think it was still actually him because he sounded exactly the same only with a high pitched and silly voice.  I hung up.  

Later in bed I asked Guido what he thought I should do and he suggested cutting up the tuxedo and turning it into some napkins. 

I told him that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.  But if anyone else has a better idea then please do let me know. 



14 thoughts on “Soufflés and other let downs

  1. I was having a laughter fit over this one and in dire need of air. So bad that you had to go through both the soufflé torture and the tuxedo tragedy all at once. If you had sent your measurements to a Dubai tailor, your suit would have been fine. Asian tailors tend to do all clothes smaller despite having your measurements because when they try the clothes on their friends and family they seem to big for them to believe it is possible (said one Malaysian tailor I met here). I hope you have alternatives. As for your current tuxedo, why not gift it to a frail Young chap whom it would fit? I am sure you can find one or two around.


  2. “Do you think this is going to fit?” Why don’t you get back in the pink tux, and takes pictures….I’m concerned about the pants in particular .I’ll give my feedback in due time. In the meantime, I thought my problems and conversation were the only really gay ones,lol!


  3. Having been over at Joe.My.God (and I see at least one fellow follower here), this is such a breath of fresh air. Its all death and carnage in California and your lively, humourous take on two simple, unrelated events made me smile. Thanks.

    Personally, I like the idea of gifting it to some young dandy to strut down Old Compton Street in on a Saturday night. It would be thing of beauty.


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