Only in Yorkshire

One of my colleagues bought an elderly relative one of those George Foreman grills that let you eat entirely unhealthy cuts of meat smug in the knowledge that all the fat will drain down into a little plastic gutter on the front. A few days later he made the mistake of asking how he liked it:

"Reet champion, lad. I can have sausages for my tea and then I can have the mucky fat on bread for breakfast the next day."