Gordon Ramsay has made a name for himself as a chef who does not hide his displeasure. Through Boiling Point, the UK and American versions of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, Master Chef—even that one time he played a Smurf—Ramsay has been direct, unapologetic and often very, very loud about insulting food and those who prepare it if either fall below his standard. But what if he turned his attention from food to books? How might Ramsay feel about classics of modern literature?
Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger
What’s this, then? Bunch of yankee dankee doodle shite. Am I supposed to care about Holden Caulfield? Grow up, you donkey. You could put two slices of bread on either side of his donkey face and you know what you’d have? An idiot sandwich. Why am I reading this? Why is anyone?
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
For what we are about to read, Lord make us truly not vomit… Is this fine literature? It’s a fine mess! Who are all these people? Why do so many of them have the same name? This story doesn’t need a book jacket. It needs a straightjacket. Magical realism? Here’s some realism for you, no amount of Harry Potter wand-waving is going to have this make any sense. What a shame, what a shame.
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
Chuck Palaniuk? More like chuck it in the bin.
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
I have never, ever, ever in my life read a book I believe in as little as this one. No one reads anymore because they have giant televisions? What’s the matter fireman, can’t do your job? Oh, your wife doesn’t would rather watch TV than talk your boring face? I don’t blame her. Thank god there’s a teenage girl to talk to, huh, you blatant case of arrested development. Now I want to watch television after reading this.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
I take back what I said about Bradbury. At least he had his boring pedophile protagonist do something other than lust after a teenager. Did Nabokov lose a bet? Did some dare him to do this? I wouldn’t read this to a mannequin. This does truly surprise me…it surprises me how shite it is. Crap on top of crap on top of crap on top of crap.
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Delicious. Finally a good f*cking book.