One of the hallmarks of being stoned is having the munchies. So much so in fact, that some tokers won’t even light up without a good snack ready for their consumption. One weed enthusiast, a reporter for Vice Media in the U.K., took this to the logical extreme, by convincing his dealer to prepare and deliver a fully cooked, albeit rather said beef wellington. Here’s how it went down.
One night, when this reporter, Nick Chester, asked his pal Tony if he wanted to get stoned, the reply was to the point. "Smoking and munching go hand-in-hand for me. It's an essential part of the experience. Your cupboard's fucking bare, so I think I'll pass,” said Tony. So, another friend, Lee, suggested they ask their dealer if he’d pick up some chips at a local supermarket on the way to Nick’s place while delivering bud.
Chips in the U.K. are usually what we Yankees call french fries, and what we call chips they call crisps. So, at first, you wonder whether the dealer was asked to pick up a bag of some freshly made french fries or a bag of potato chips. Turns out Nick wanted the later. This article was republished on Vice’s American website, so perhaps they already did the translating for us. Anyway, the dealer was only too happy to oblige.
So, Nick, Lee, and Tony upped the ante. “Over the next few days, I came up with a list of progressively more contrived items to request, each one requiring a greater amount of effort on the dealers' part than the last. Yes, cocaine might be stronger than ever, and dealers might have diversified into Xanax and 2C-B. But can they handle a quiche? Let's find out!” says Nick as he launches into the tale of getting dealers to do his gastronomic bidding.
Nick asked three different dealers to bring him rolling papers. Surprisingly, considering those are an essential tool for joint-making, none did. “After offering all three dealers an extra ten bucks to pick me up some skins, two of the guys said they weren't going to be around for a few days, while the third sounded really paranoid and kept asking why I didn't just go to the store myself,” says Nick.
He tried three more dealers to see if they’d bring him a Victoria sponge cake, a cake made of cream and jam, and well, cake. This time he came up with an elaborate backstory to make the request more legitimate. Again, three more dealers unsurprisingly flaked, with the third stringing Nick along for a bit, even though “it became clear he was a scammer” as Nick says. Still, they argued over the cream to jam ratio until Nick moved on.
Nick repeated the exercise with some new requests, asking three dealers to make him a complicated origami goose, and another three to make him a ‘Sunday roast,’ which for us Yanks is just roast beef. Each request received its own elaborate backstory. Where Nick got so many dealers, he doesn’t explain. He almost got a dealer to bring him the goose, but “Unfortunately, the only dealer who seemed remotely close to taking the bait told me he wanted £50 [$38] and that he couldn't get it to me until the following night. That's fairly pricey for a folded piece of paper, and my deadline was the next day, which didn't leave me with quite enough time.”
Nobody brought him a Sunday roast.
Undaunted, he pressed on. The first dealer he tried was another scammer, but the second delivered a fully cooked, but predictably dreadfull beef wellington, which admittedly is a very hard dish to cook. "It was a fucker to cook," the dealer complained. "I hope you’re going to eat it.”
Nick’s conclusion: “Yes, dealers will deliver anything if you’re persuasive enough, but if it's anything other than drugs it's unlikely to be any good. Saying that, if I somehow managed to convince Gordon Ramsey to deliver weed, I could hardly hold it against him if he didn’t know his blue cheese from his lemon haze.”
Good show, Nick. Good show.