Angry British Chef Gives You Intense On The Job Training

Transcript

Sorry, what was that? What was that? Okay, you can tell table six that if they don't like their creme brulee, they can come back here, I'll make them a fresh one, and I can shove it up their arses.

Yeah, or clump them, I don't know. How's that last order coming, sous-chef? Huh? Huh? Bring it over here.

God, I know we're short-staffed and it's been a long night, but when did your brain fall out of your head? Hmm? Just give it here.

And what the fuck is this? What'd you cook this in? A fucking volcano? Hey, hey, look at me.

This? It's not good enough. I don't care if it's the last order.

Get back behind the stove and make another one, you fucking donkey. Look, I try not to compliment my employees, but you're usually a lot better than this, so shape up, alright? It's for fucking duck, it's my signature recipe, and you've made it a hundred times before, so just do one more for me.

Look, I can see that you're stressed out, okay? I would just make it myself, but I need to know that you can function under pressure. There's gonna be busier nights than this, darling.

So get your fucking act together. God, you're all fingers and fucking thumbs, aren't you? Hey, look at me.

Hey. What do you usually do to relax? Just answer the fucking question.

The, the, the, the, the. .. Stop fucking staring at me like that.

I'm not staring at you. I'm not staring at you. The, the, the, the, the.

.. Stop fucking stammering at me. You did not just say what I thought you just said.

You fuck, do you? Would that be why you keep bending over unnecessarily in front of me? Hmm? You can answer.

Well, if that wasn't the sluttiest yes chef I've ever heard. Here, let me pull these down. Well, I'm helping you calm down, of course.

I need to know that you can cook this under pressure. So, I'm going to eat this overwhelmed, slutty arsehole of yours. While you cook a perfect signature duck.

Do I make myself clear? Yes chef is right. Mmm.

Mmm. Well, that's, yeah, sounds okay. You might not fuck this up, yeah? Never mind what my hand is doing with your clut, okay? Keep your fucking mind on the task at hand.

Heat's gone down at the right time. Mmm, butter sounds right. Mmm, keep focusing.

Done? No, no, no, if you say it's done, it's done. Take it off, plate it, put the sauce on.

Right, does that look good to you? I mean, it looks good to me. But I know that it's not.

You were not basting that on low heat for long enough for it to be in any way cooked on the inside. Yes, I'm fucking positive. Cut it open.

If it's cooked right, you can have my job. There, see? It's fucking raw! Grab two slices of bread and get on your knees in front of me.

There you go, give them to me. Now. What are you? Yes, that's right.

It's not the only thing, though. You're a horse sandwich as well. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

And play with that needy fucking thing between your legs, okay? Oh, fuck! I will teach you to be a productive member of this kitchen.

If it fucking kills me. That's right. This is freaking fucking good.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck, yeah.

I guess I had some steam, but I need to blow it off too. Fuck. Fuck, yes.

Take it down your throat. Fuck. You're going to try and slough out guests for raw meat? I'll do the same to you.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck. Breathe. Breathe.

For me. Breathe. For me.

Get back on my cock right now. Oh, fuck. Stop, stop, stop.

Look at me. Stand up. We are going to try this one more fucking time, okay? But I need you to bend over the stove while you're cooking.

And stick that gorgeous fucking arse of yours out. Yeah. Because really I've been doing you a disservice.

What you said you do to relax is fuck. And I've been here beating around the bush. Yeah? Yeah? Good job.

We'll make a halfway decent cook of you, yeah? Now start cooking. Why? That's it.

That's it. Just use your instincts. You've done this before.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

I'm just going to reach around. Play with that clutter of yours. Oh, fuck.

Yeah, take my fucking cock. Pay attention to the pan. Don't get too flustered now.

Oh, fuck. Yes, boy, you're fucking wriggling on me. Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck. There we go. There we go.

Heat down. Hammer for butter. No, don't stop.

Beasting too quickly now. You'll know when it's done. Just don't burn it again.

But don't undercook it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yes. Fuck, yes. You feel so fucking good for me.

You keep fucking taking it. You're fucking taking it. You're getting close for me.

You're getting fucking close. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck. I think you're going to come about the same time the duck's done. I'm going to fucking blow my line inside you.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I'm getting so fucking close.

And so is the duck. I'm getting so fucking close. You're going to fucking come for me.

You're going to fucking come for me when you cook this duck to perfection. Oh, fuck, yes. Oh, fuck, yes.

Fuck, yes. Fucking take it. Fucking take it.

Oh, God. I can feel you. I can feel you.

Fuck. Fuck, I'm going to fill you up. I'm going to fill you up.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Plate it.

Plate it now. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

Plate it. I don't care if you're still coming. Fucking plate it up.

Good fucking job, sous-chef. I knew you had it in you. I know I can get quite shouty in here sometimes, but you took it like a champ.

Really good job. And this duck looks fucking perfect. I'll get it, son.

No, if they complain about it now, it can fucking clean off my cock for all I care. Order, table A. Hey, good job today.

Come here. Proud of you. I guess next time we're alone in here and you're feeling a little overwhelmed.

Well, we know how we're going to solve that. Honestly, though, you're a good chef. And you took my cock so fucking well.

You all good? Yeah? Good work, sweetheart.