Last year, after having it a few times at a friends house on their beautiful home-grown goat meat, I discovered I had a bit of a taste for Hot Sauces! So when Fathers Day came around I found myself presented with a present with 15 Hot Sauces in it!
Now, we were having a big rib night at casa’ de Trev and my friends challenged me to eat all 15 Hot Sauces. Their challenge was to try them all in one evening, but as ever I had to up the ante and decided I would take a big beef rib and try all 15 Hot Sauces inONE BITE! Then to take it even further (like the idiot I am), I decided that I would wash it down with ‘Chlli Beer’ – promised on its to bring tears to the eyes!
This video records the results. Enjoy!
Incidentally, everyone that drank the chilli beer was coughing hard after the merest sip. To me, with my fried throat and tastebuds, it genuinely tastes like water.
The actual event that taught me to feel sorry for what the entirety of the female population has to put up with took place well over a decade ago (and involves me hightailing it down the road with a fear of sodomization forefront in my mind) whilst I was living in the UK. But first I will relate what has brought this harrowing (but to you probably humorous) event back to mind.
The other day I was walking to work. A woman in her mid 20’s was walking with her young son in a stroller. She was dressed very neatly, looked like maybe she was a secretary in a law clerks office or something – business shirt, knee length skirt, jacket etc. So dressed nicely but neatly – there was no overly ample amount of leg or other body part on show.
Around the corner came a fellow on a pissy scooter, looked like something one should be riding on the way to a picnic in southern France rather than around a country town in the bush. He was dressed slovenly with a beard that would put Costa from Gardening Australia to shame.
He saw the woman, his eyes went wide and his mouth gaped a little. He then uttered the following cry in her direction:
“Arghahagrhahghagagr!”
In fact it was less of a cry, more of a guttural gargle. Apparently they phrase “Whey hey!” was too eloquent for him. He continued on his little fricken scooter around the corner and was gone.
I saw the woman mentally sigh, straighten her shoulders, and then proceed about her day with her kid in tow. I felt so sorry for this woman – all she was doing was walking with her son – she didn’t deserve to be gargled at in a lecherous fashion. And what did the gargler expect to happen? Was this woman going to throw her son – stroller and all – behind a bush, bare her breasts and run at him looking to copulate right there in the middle of the street? I mean – what was the end result he was after?
You women have to put up with that kind of stupid crap all the time, and it makes me feel for you. But what happened to me all those years ago made me feel it all the more.
Stop treating me like a sex object! I’m not just a stellar pair of legs!
I was in my mid 20’s and living in a small town called Grays in the Essex countryside in the UK. As was my usual routine, on a Friday night I would catch a train for the 40 minute ride to London, party the night away with my mutual backpacker friends, then catch the last train home. This of course left me feeling very seedy every Saturday morning.
This Saturday morning I’d pulled on some old clothes and left the house to walk the 10 minutes to the shops to grab some groceries. Not long after leaving my front gate I walked past a fellow about my age, wearing a black mesh singlet and jeans. ‘G’day’ I say in my friendly yet hungover Aussie drawl as I dragged my carcass off in search of food.
As I wandered the different stores, I must have walked past this fellow a good four or five times, always leaning against a wall. I was not firing on all thrusters so didn’t think much of it.
On my way home there he was again, leaning against a wall. He detached himself and wandered over to me with an outstretched hand. “Hi” he said politely.
“Hi” I said and shook his hand for what turned out to be the limpest handshake I have ever endured. This must have been done on purpose – no one has a handshake that limp! It was like he had dropped a raw, deboned chicken breast into my hand!
After some initial pleasantries I began to walk home again and he kept pace, peppering me with questions about did I have a girlfriend (I made the stupid mistake of saying that I did but that she was back in Australia – damn you Truthful Trev!), where I lived, did I have housemates, would they be home now etc etc. I was fending off this verbal barrage as best I could in my mentally sluggish state but this guy was getting more worked up and insistent with his questioning. Apparently I must have taken this blokes fancy and he was not letting up in pursuit of his quarry.
Now let me preface what I’m about to say with this – I have NEVER had an issue with gay guys trying to pick me up. It’s something that has happened to me quite a few times, especially since I have gay friends and we all used to hit the town together. From bars in Melbourne to nightclubs in London (and even one naked guy in a tribal dancepit at Confest at 1am) I’ve been approached but it’s never phased me and I’ve never really understood why some guys get so angry about it. Heck – someone finds you attractive and interesting – it’s a compliment! And every other time it’s happened to me I’ve politely rebuffed their advances and it’s been all good. In fact, now I’m approaching 40 it’s sadly been a few years since I got to enjoy that kind of compliment from someone of either sex.
But this guy was really starting to ring alarm bells, especially with him being insistent about coming home with me ‘to see where I lived’ and wanting to know ‘if it would be just us there’. I stopped to look at him.
I looked at him and he looked at me and I realized this guy wanted to f*ck me. He wanted to f*ck me very, very badly! His eyes were wide and intense, his hands were grasping open and shut, his whole body looked poised to spring. I realized that this guy was, with great difficulty, holding himself back from bending me over on the footpath and taking me right there and then! I did not want to look down because there was NO WAY this guy was not sporting an erection! It made me feel really uncomfortable, I would have preferred the naked guy at Confest taking another crack! A smiling hippy, even one that’s nude, was way less threatening than this guy was coming across!
I made some hasty excuses, turned down a street that was not the one I actually lived on, then sprinted away into the grey English morning mist.
And this is how I came to have empathy for all women everywhere, because almost every woman on the planet has had to deal with this more than once in their lives. It is very confronting to talk to someone and realize that they fiercely want to have sex with you right there and then – that you are basically a warm body for them to use to vent their sexual frustrations. If it has never happened to you, you might be able to abstractly conceive of what it is like, but when it actually happens it is hard to describe how unnerving it really is (You can still laugh at the idea of me running like the wind to protect my back-door cherry though).
So guys, don’t gargle at women on the street. And yes, the urge to mate can be overwhelming, I’ve felt it myself, like if you don’t shag right there and then something in you is going to shatter! But tone it down, chill the hell out, and maybe it will happen. But when you aim yourself at a stranger like you are an erection with legs, all you are going to do is ruin someone’s day.
And I suppose we must spare a thought for the now middle-aged mesh-singlet wearer, traipsing the English countryside at night, mournfully looking for his lost Aussie love… or his lost lust at any rate.
Got a story along a similar lines to share or wish to comment on the above? Would love to read it in the comments section below!
Though I had no hand in making this, and certainly would have edited out some of the more ‘revealing’ situations I appear in, the clip is a good precursor to an account I intend to write of “The Church” in England which is a tale certainly worth telling and this will put that story of debauchery in it’s true context.
Contains scenes of partial g-stringery, you have been warned!
As you can see, the clip disturbs even me – and I lived it!
Preface: The “TNT Burger” is the hottest 100% Australian made burger in the world ! We use sauces made by “The Chilli Factory” including the lastest “Scorpion Strike” which is made with the hottest chilli in the world – the Trinidad Scorpion Butch T,,we also use the famous “Turbo Supercharge” as well as “Devils Delirium” in our patty among with other special flavours ! The patty is 330gm infused with the above sauces,the bun is 200gm,the burger is topped with fresh chillis, 2 rashers of bacon,tomato,lettuce,onion& cheese and of course The Chilli Factory’s award winning sauces! Many have tried with no luck and a sore ring im sure ! Only 14 people have successfully munched it down ! Those who have succeeded get their name on the “Wall of Flame” and receive a Chilli Factory stubbie holder and lanyard ! Now with the new hottest chilli in the world (“Trinidad Scorpion Butch T ) the burger will be at its hottest
Thursday
11.00am: I telephone the venue and book the burger challenge the requisite 24-hours in advance. I am informed that the burger will cost $15 because of the imported chili’s and they will not start it’s preparation until I am on site.
Friday
11.15am:I take a group of teenagers, whom (quite understandably) look to me as their guiding inspiration, down to the venue so they can watch me eat it. I figure that I’m used to eating hot sauce pretty often and if it’s too hot I’ll just wolf it down fast. I have what drinks I will require all squared up in my head and I feel ready for the challenge.
11.20am: They start to make the burger. I see how big the patty is and realize I won’t be wolfing this down fast – it’s very big! The boys and I are watching the chef at work with growing trepidation. We see the imported chili’s taken out, chopped up and put on (there’s a lot of them – I find out later from the chef that they are in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the hottestin the world!). A lot of the sauces being poured on have ratings adorning the labels such as 12/10 hotness!
11.25am:The chefs wife comes out, informs me of the contest rules. There can be no drinking during the challenge (uh-oh!), I have to sit at this table in the middle of the place by myself so no one else gets any of the hot sauces on them by accident. I need to wear special gloves when eating it (holy crap!). They provide napkins and say only use one at a time to wipe my mouth (apparently my lips and skin will be burning) then discard so I don’t spread the juices and make it worse. They provide one of my entourage a cooled tea towel and instruct him that he will need to mop my forehead fairly often. They also instruct me to keep the sauces/juices away from my eyes as I could end up in hospital if I get any in there.
11.30am: I sit down, now somewhat nervous and don the gloves. My disciples set themselves up at a respectful distance to watch and some film with their phones. The burger comes out (it is damn big!). I’m informed I have two hours to eat it, most people that have managed it (only 14 out of the few hundred that have tried) take about an hour.
11.31am:I take my first bite. It’s hot, damn hot, but nothing I can’t handle. I decide to try and get it down fast so I start really hoeing in. The lads are laughing and encouraging me.
11.35am: Mouth and throat now on fire! Really want a drink. Starting to slow with my eating.
11.40am: Lips and surrounding skin now burning. Using napkins after each bite. Have broken out in the sweats – armpits saturated and forehead needing to be frequently mopped. Lads laughter has turned to unsure giggles.
11.45am:Starting to feel nauseous, eating slow. Needing a break after each bite with eyes closed and slow breathing. The Chef appears and tells my entourage not to make any noise as people often need peace at this part of the process.
11.50am:Taking a full minute break between each bite. Two-thirds of burger gone. Mouth and throat no longer on fire as they have gone numb. Nausea has become quite intense. Really sweating hard.
11.55am: Disciples now silent except for one telling me he thinks I should stop. The chefs wife comes to check on me, tells me if I start to have chest pains she will be forced to stop the challenge.
12.00pm: Nausea now very intense. Feeling a very odd tingling sensation down both arms I have never felt before. Hands shaking, eyes closed, breathing heavily.
12.05pm:Having to chew each tiny mouthful about 50 times before I can swallow it. Throat numb and swollen. Even eating a tiny piece of onion makes me feel like I am going to vomit. Dead silence in the venue, everyone watching intently, no one cheering me on anymore, just a lot of worried faces.
12.10pm:Stomach now not only nauseous but I am feeling definite acute pains down there. The tingling in my arms has become very intense. Strong headache coming on. Skin ever redder than usual. I take a bite of the patty about the size of a mint. Realize that if I swallow it I will definitely vomit. Look at my plate, there is about a fifth of the burger to go. I realize that I’m going to lose the challenge – I just can’t do it! Take the piece of meat out of my mouth, put it on the table and admit defeat with a hung head.
12.11pm: The teenagers all breathe a sigh of relief and I realize just how intense the atmosphere had become. The Chef’s wife brings me some fresh watermelon and a drink which I take gratefully. The Chef himself comes out, we shake hands and I compliment him on his victory. We chat for about 5 minutes, turns out that the first time he tried the challenge he couldn’t do it either. I vow to come back next year and take another crack at it. I don’t get my name on the wall or the other prizes but he gives me a lanyard for getting so close. The Chef’s wife warns me that I should not kiss anyone for the next 5 hours because the heat transfers and it could cause them pain and made quite the point of emphasizing I should not kiss anyone anywhere, don’t think she was talking about at the Opera somehow.
12.15pm: I drive back to work, find a cool quiet bit of carpet in front of an air conditioner in a low traffic area and lie down. A bemused but sympathetic co-worker gets me some pain killers from the First Aid cabinet. I count down the clock until the day ends, trying not to vomit. Go home and spend the rest of the day with severe stomach pains coming and going. Drinking milk seems to alleviate the worst symptoms.
Saturday
3.10am: Wake up with stomach hurting and something definitely going wrong downstairs. Go to the toilet. What I can only assume is a form of viscous fire erupts from the lower part of me. Spend the next half hour on the toilet in intense pain and my backside feeling just as much on fire as my mouth had done 15 hours earlier.
3.40am: Take pain killers and alka-seltzers and go back to bed, vowing not to go back next year and try again.
Afterword:I tell this story with a sense of shame. It is the only time in my entire life I have failed a food challenge and failure does not sit well with me, so I may be stupid enough to make another attempt some time in the future. In the end it was the nausea the burger was creating that beat me (and given the ingredients I am not surprised) rather than how hot it was making my mouth so maybe something to line my stomach beforehand may be in order.
Big Angry Trev has been around the world and done a lot of things. Many of them great, most of them stupid. Sit back, grab a drink and perhaps some form of nibbly snack and enjoy the antics which have made him… well… not particularly famous, but notorious amongst certain pub crowds at least
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