3 stinking hash bowns and a big milk

It is only now.... several days after the long awaited breakfast that I feel able to write about the experience. The day started off well enough, Milk was a few minutes late but instead of waiting in the car as usual he flew into my abode demanding soap and warm water!!! It appears he was suffering from a slight feeling of greasiness about the chin! After some frantic rubbing of the infected area with a piece of kitchen towel all was well and we set off to pick up Tomato. Tomato as is his wont demanded the back seat as usual while Milk harumphed about the seat positioning... "Pull the leaver...pull the leaver!!!" he squeeled like a a tart caught in a revolving door.... but soon we were motoring towards the fine city of Inverness.

The boot itself was enjoyable and I picked up a copy of "Eraserhead" on DVD for £2 but for some reason I refused "Lost in Translation" for the same price! I pointed out said DVD to Milk in the hope that he would purchase it... but alak and alas he was having none of it and whirled away like the proverbial tart in the proverbial revolving door! I almost managed to secure a Stylophone at a reasonable price for Milk but he pooh-poohed it and waltzed away muttering about crazy..crazy prices.

I met up with Tomato at the car who was chewing on a lardball and waxing lyrical about bloody rabbits consuming his trees, soon we were joined by an unusually relaxed Milk and within moments we were breakfast bound.

I had no idea at this time that it would be the LAST traditional breakfast I would ever order at Tescos! The service was atrocious as usual but the lack of non-meat products was incredible - considering that 6 have to be chosen - I ended up with 3 greasy hash browns, two scoops of beans and a piece of toast. I was so dissapointed that I could garner narry a grin at Milks pathetic face when he realised he had forgotten to get Tomaoto's breakie platter. I even tried to cheer him up by anouncing that I had picked up "the big milk jug" but he chose - not for the first time that day to ignore me - I reminded him to get butter, paid for my rapidly cooling breakfast and joined Tomato at the table.

Tomato had done a stirling job with the cutlery and condiments even remembering to pick up the peppah! Milk arrived with a single breakfast and a furious face, he forced the breakfast on Tomato - to be fair it didn't take much forcing - and glared at the world. I ate my feeble plateful without complaint as usual - remembering all the starving children in Afrika - while Tomato and Milk - whose piping hot breakfast had now arrived - slurped and gurgled and munched and belched their way through what seemed like mountains of bacon, eggs, sausage, beans, tattie scones, fried bread and toast. I was a little put out at Milks use of "the big milk" in his two full cups of tea while I sipped at my singular!

I look forward to the next breakfast trip... but I will not be ordering "The Traditional".