KFC Zinger Pie Review: Part I

Dear KFC,

Imagine that I've been stranded on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific for a very long time. Then one day, one of your Zinger pies falls from the sky into my malnourished hands. Do I:

A) Eat it

B) Give it to my best friend, Wilson

C) Stick a coconut up my bum

D) None of the above

If you answered A, you clearly haven't consumed one of your own Zinger pies. If you had, you'd know that it's physically impossible to let that pastry-encased abomination pass your lips a second time, no matter how famished you are. That must mean the answer is B then, right? Wrong. Presenting this inedible atrocity to my best mate, even if he is just a personified volleyball, is a terrible idea. Wilson would probably tell me to go fuck myself, which would cause a friendship-ending argument. So obviously the answer is D, although inserting the seed of the Cocos nucifera palm into my rectum comes a very close second.

The pie's pastry, like Clive Palmer's recent political campaign (and possibly penis) was thick, flaccid and completely unpalatable. However, I was hopeful that the contents of the pie would be, as every idiotic Masterchef contestant would say, "The hero of the dish". Unfortunately the pie's filling was far from heroic. At best, it resembled the scum scraped off a caged-hen farm floor, mixed with a healthy dose of projectile vomit, à la the chick from The Exorcist.

Ironically, today is R U OK? Day. Prior to tasting this nauseating concoction, I was just fine. Now, I'm not so sure. It'll take some time for my tastebuds to forgive me, but at least throwing the rest of the unconsumed pie into Darling Harbour was very therapeutic. In all seriousness though guys, the Colonel must be turning in his grave. Stick to deep-frying factory-farmed chooks, because your Zinger pie is worse than Michael Slater starring in one of your commercials with the Madden twins... and that's fucking terrible. 

Obese regards,

Rich Wisken.

Dear KFC,

Imagine that I've been stranded on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific for a very long time. Then one day, one of your Zinger pies falls from the sky into my malnourished hands. Do I:

A) Eat it

B) Give it to my best friend, Wilson

C) Stick a coconut up my bum

D) None of the above

If you answered A, you clearly haven't consumed one of your own Zinger pies. If you had, you'd know that it's physically impossible to let that pastry-encased abomination pass your lips a second time, no matter how famished you are. That must mean the answer is B then, right? Wrong. Presenting this inedible atrocity to my best mate, even if he is just a personified volleyball, is a terrible idea. Wilson would probably tell me to go fuck myself, which would cause a friendship-ending argument. So obviously the answer is D, although inserting the seed of the Cocos nucifera palm into my rectum comes a very close second.

The pie's pastry, like Clive Palmer's recent political campaign (and possibly penis) was thick, flaccid and completely unpalatable. However, I was hopeful that the contents of the pie would be, as every idiotic Masterchef contestant would say, "The hero of the dish". Unfortunately the pie's filling was far from heroic. At best, it resembled the scum scraped off a caged-hen farm floor, mixed with a healthy dose of projectile vomit, à la the chick from The Exorcist.

Ironically, today is R U OK? Day. Prior to tasting this nauseating concoction, I was just fine. Now, I'm not so sure. It'll take some time for my tastebuds to forgive me, but at least throwing the rest of the unconsumed pie into Darling Harbour was very therapeutic. In all seriousness though guys, the Colonel must be turning in his grave. Stick to deep-frying factory-farmed chooks, because your Zinger pie is worse than Michael Slater starring in one of your commercials with the Madden twins... and that's fucking terrible. 

Obese regards,

Rich Wisken.