So are we to deduce that the Bridge Farm Poisoners…

…don’t actually eat their own produce?* Because if they did would they not have noticed that it was shite?




OK, more than usually shite.






*A sensible precaution, in fairness

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Would they dare tell Helen if the Wold was more than usually manky, though? That would be a bit brave… Ian could at least slink back to his kitchen.

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I am trying to get my head round the idea that Helen has not been sampling the cheese to make sure of its quality with every single truckle.

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But wouldn’t she notice it herself?

Incidentally, what’s with the customers “not ordering” Mankwold at GG? Unless things have changed radically, if you order the cheeseboard, you take what you’re given; I don’t think I’ve ever been offered a choice.

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Great minds, Chris…

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Some places have a list of what might be on the cheeseboard, and you select half-a-dozen and say what sort of biscuits you want. I encountered this once.

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I thought she had been tasting but was in denial. One must doesn’t get the crocodiles these days. Sigh.

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Ah right - I’ve obviously been frequenting some very cheapskate establishments! Still makes little sense for a locally-produced small-batch product, though; how would people know not to order it, unless they were local themselves?

Gus - I’m sure conservation agencies the world over would have something to say about feeding Mankwold to an endangered species*.






*Any species that ingests Plague Farm produce is, ipso facto, endangered

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It’s only a couple of months since it was competing for national prizes.

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Another layer of idiocy is that Ian didn’t bother to taste it until sales had been “on the floor” for weeks. These people have a lot to learn about quality control—starting with what it means.

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If I am sharing a cheeseboard with BiL, for example, I stipulate that 1 cheese may be Blue

If I am eating it alone, then I can’t have any Blue Cheese

Have never had a choice of more than 4 for 1 person, Fishy

Carinthia.xx

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Half a dozen was for six of us, Carinthia. (We could have had eight but we all agreed about six so that was what we went for.)

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Unnatural levels of concord, that.

I remember with fondness and only a slight tinge of dyspepsia a restaurant where I got to choose five cheeses of me own… in restrained quantities, but not restrained enough, seemingly.

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I suspect that in fact the Wold is less than usually manky. I see it as a jump-down-yer-froat sort of cheese when it’s on form, with a delicate bouquet of used gym socks and burning tyres.

Ian knows better than to let the stuff near his tongue. You probably can’t taste anything for weeks afterwards.

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Assuming you survive that long…

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We are a family of excess. Last Christmas I bought many cheeses. Surprisingly, Mrs. Shanks did the same. As did #1 son. Then #2 son arrived weighed down after raiding stalls at Borough.

The place only was missing the Bouzouki players and we could have gone full Cheese Shop sketch.

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Sorry - sold the bouzouki years ago…

Actually, it would be the mirror-image Cheese Shop Sketch; all the cheese, no bouzouki player

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Isn’t it only Helen and Pat who make the cheese? In which case it’s going to be a pretty quick game of finger pointing to figure out the problem.

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Can’t Helen. She takes a forensic approach, according to her drooling cool of a brother.

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Wot, spraying luminol about the place while wearing orange sunglasses and carrying an ALS, while modern rock plays in the background?

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