Houmous Be Joking

Caramelised red onion houmous is the great deceiver of the condiment family.

The first bite of a caramelised red onion houmous-laden carrot is like getting off with handsdown the fittest chick in the entire club.

The third bite is still up there; you're smooching the fittest chick in the club, but she's a real slobberer. Still.. no one else knows that, and as far as the rest of the club is concerned you're pulling the outstanding hot female in there. 

By the fifth bite things are getting wonky. Like some sort of inverse beer goggle sequence, with each slobber she becomes progressively more butters. The club - which you've now realised is a total shithole - is completely empty.

The seventh bite is the sledge-hammer blow. She's a man.


One might wonder how something that starts so well can end so badly, but here within lies the paradox of the caramelised red onion houmous thing. Every time i pick up a fresh tub, i retain my faith in the possibility of an earth-shattering carrot & dip session. And every time i get spat out the other side, my ego in tatters and a lingering taste in my mouth that makes me want to spew. Yet the lure of that first bite is all-powerful, much too strong to recall lessons unlearnt from train wreckages of the past. If the hottest chick in the club is that interested, lock yourself in the disabled toilet.

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