Then, a short while ago, in the name of science,
First, some pictures of the products in our range.
Next, modelled by our scientists and assistants, a blow by blow catalogue of impending doom.
G: *pouring out Village Girl brand pickle flavour sweet potato noodles* I think it is safe to say that this looks like something from a hairdresser. A dog hairdresser.
T: *reading scientifically* We have to choose a method of preparation. You can either put the noodles and the seasoning in the bowl, and add the water _or_ put the noodles and the water in the bowl. And add the seasoning.
G: Devilish!
T: Three to five minutes to brew. Something else while we're waiting... I want to try the alien eggs.
G: They're all yours. And I mean that in the most literal sense.
T. No!
G: Olives make me die.
T: So?
G: So I don't want to die.
T: I mock your scientific integrity.
G: I'm the one handling the dangerous spices... And.. *unhappily* what looks like flat poooo.
T: Behold. The chilli flavoured olive *bites* which is harder than it looks. *chews thoughtfully*
T: I'm not putting that back in my mouth.
G: Wash it down with some grass jelly drink.
T: Ok! I shall!
T: *quaffs* Ooh, warm vomit.
G: Not quite vomit. It's more.. the vomity aftertaste.
G: Ok. *pours out noodles* This is supposed to be pickled flavour..
T: pickled what though?
G: Its sort of like eating loads of rubber bands flavoured with ARRRRGH!
T: I kind of like it. But what's next?
G: Luhong Instant Rice Flake. Seafood flavour!
T: Eels live in the sea.
G: There's another flavour. Where'd the other one go? We can't have lost science. I took it out of my trousers and then.. uh. I can feel those noodles doing something horrible inside me (I think it's the macarena).
G: *reads* Luhong cooked dough sheet is made by scientific method and special steam techniques. Being healthy for stomach and fast infusing to eat, it becomes a vogue meat. Especially convenient for those on business trip or in tour.
G: These Chinese sure know how to hurt us. I bet we shopped in the stupid westerners aisle.
T: What kind of animal is a Vogue?
G: I think its a type of mole
T: The ingredients include.. nucleotide. Mmm.
G: This is _really good_
T: Mmm. Best science ever. But the back of my mouth's gone numb.
G: *makes inappropriate joke*
T: ...
T: I declare this a delicacy.
G : A VOGUE delicacy.
T: Let's move on.
G: No, I think I'm done for tonight.
T: Aw, come on!
G: No. I can't taste anything. This is strange and alien food. I need to not be sick. _And_ I'm coming out in hives. I didn't have hives and NOW I HAVE HIVES.
Science is adjourned.
G: I'm itchy. I'm fucking itchy.
T: Best. Science. Ever.
G: My scrotum is itchy.
G: But NO! there is dessert!
At this point, a picture becomes worth a thousand words. We sampled something that will henceforth be known only as "THE PRODUCT" because we don't know what the hell its called.
Here are the results.
Needless to say, by this point, my excitement was nearly unbearable and I eagerly drank my share!
Science is well and truly adjourned.