I was giving a dinner party with Crispin Glover and I was very, very upset at him. You see, he'd been in charge of the meat course, but had served our guests Spaghetti Bolognese.
So, I dragged him into the kitchen, furiously muttering about what a disgrace this was. He kept trying to tell be that because there was meat in the sauce, it counted, but I was not to be swayed.
"That's PASTA" I whisper-screamed (so the guests wouldn't hear, of course
), while hurling raw mushrooms at him. He dodged the mushrooms, Matrix-style and then pulled a sizeable roast out of his jacket pocket, plated it and said "Fine, if it means that much to you, I'll serve them meat!" while flouncing out of the kitchen.
I have absolutely no idea why this popped into my head, but I about died laughing when I told my fella about it the next morning.