"I'm horrified," he begins slowly "after reading a press release from a hotel in Scotland that went public in announcing the fact that they're doing a deep-fried sandwich full of Nutella. I mean, Christ! Seventy-five per cent of my staff are French. They look at me like I'm some sort of twat that my Scottish brothers are launching two slices of bread with a fucking inch of Nutella between them, battered and deep fat fried. Now what the fuck is this country coming to? What are we doing to ourselves? That has to be abolished. Here we are, progressing tenfold, buying the right bread, real croissants, we're making fresh muesli and we understand what a great cup of coffee is. And then some idiot brings out a deep-fried chocolate sandwich. I want to find the bastard that put that idea together. I've got the most amazing charcoal grill in my new kitchen. I'm going to sit his butt on it and criss-cross my name on his bloody arse cheeks to remind him. Every time he wakes up in the morning he can gawp at his arse. Is he fucking stupid? When these things hit France, the French just have a field day laughing at us. So I'm looking for that scumbag. I'm going to fucking grill his arse. Brand him with a hot iron like a little calf or a lamb. I'm going to put Ramsayfied on his butt, so every time he wakes up in the morning, he thinks 'Fuck! I shouldn't have done that!'"