Last night I watched "Ramsey's kitchen nightmares". After sitting through an hour of watching the stroppy Jock Spud Jockey throwing his weight around, two points occurred to me. 1. He is a c*nt. 2. I would love to see him go into a typical Forces galley or cookhouse, one that was full of typically psychotic Glaswegian chefs with teeth and ears missing, and covered in dodgy Loyalist tattoos. I think that he would last about fifteen minutes before he was dunked head-first into the deep-fat fryer.