Is there anything better than pie and mash when you’re home alone, with the kids in bed and the wife out on the lash?

36 comments

1. A good wank?

2. A gram and a brass?

3. Looks pretty satisfying. Would have chucked in some carrots myself but that’s just a tweak.

4. Porn on the big tele

5. In that situation you should be high and eating a takeaway.

6. That’s a strong pea to pie ratio there homeslice, you got shares in Birds Eye?

7. A takeaway.

8. Sausages, Fried onions, Mash, Peas and gravy?

9. No bread and butter?!?!?

10. Title is pure poetry.

11. Where’s the liquor

12. Pie and mash has to be up there.

    On your lap in front of the telly? Couple of bottles of Brown Ale?

13. Swap the mash for chips and make the peas mushy.

14. Missing a big ol’ nob of butter on the peas imo.

15. Amazing, that’s my comfort meal right there! Especially if it’s a steak and ale pie

16. Not in shorts. Cus you cut the pie and the gravy lands on your knee and gives you a burn patch that is still there 2-3 years later and the mrs can barely believe that it’s a true story.

17. What kind of pie? Looks scrummy!

18. Wtf is that fork about

19. I only see peas with a side of pie and mash

20. Home made pie with leftover potato hash 🤤

21. I do love a good pie and mash, I have to say. That one looks splendid.

22. I had this the other night, with my girlfriend away for work. Threw it up half an hour later, turns out I was ill. Ruined the whole week!

23. Taking the pie out the tinfoil

24. Just saying – I think you’re meant to take the pie out of the foil tray. 🙂

25. What about in 16 years time when the wife is in bed and the kids are on the lash? 😳

26. Take away!

27. Just a few peas for you I see

28. Why is pie still in the foil?

29. Yeah, a two person Charlie Bingham’s fish pie to yourself and Alien on Blu-ray.

30. Mushy peas

31. That title sounds like a poem

32. Please tell me that’s not the tin for the pie drowned in the gravy

33. Pokey pie wank

34. Needs a sausage.

35. My dinner was browner than yours: remains of last Sunday’s chicken fried crispy, a packet of stuffing and half a pint of gravy. Washed it down with a tin of Lucky Saint.

36. I read that like lyrics being sung by an older, wiser Jarvis Cocker singing a follow-up to Disco 2000.