Culinary metaphor free zone

I am declaring this blog a culinary metaphor free zone.

“Why?” you may ask.

It’s become the fashion amongst the Liberal Democrats to talk about how the last general election – with the 10 reasons to vote Liberal Democrat – was like picking 10 good ingredients but forgetting to tell anyone what the recipe was; or like cooking 10 dishes that didn’t make a dinner; or like a picking options from a take-away menu without knowing what sort of food the place sells (Indian? Chinese? Doesn’t matter, I’ll just have a number 3 and two number 7s please); or like arguing over what ingredients to buy in the supermarket without having first agreed what the meal being cooked will be; or …

But, dear reader, you can rest assured that from this day forth there will be no culinary metaphors here. (Though that won’t stop me talking about spoons obviously).

Alas, you will therefore have to turn elsewhere for the inside scoop on how the leader’s speech at party conference is going to be turned into a mass cook-in with 3,000 risottos being simultaneously made by every conference representative led from the stage at the front of the hall by Elspeth, a stove and Jamie Oliver (or Lembit Opik if Jamie isn’t available).

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