Years ago at uni, about 10 of us (8 girls, 2 boys) got into the habit of having monthly 'dinner parties'. We fancied ourselves as being jolly sophisticated even though they normally consisted of eating off our laps in a skanky shared house living room, and drinking ludicrous amounts of cheap plonk.
These events were normally catered by one of the girls, until one month the 2 boys decided they would dazzle us with their culinary magic. We went round, had quite a nice spinach and ricotta cannelloni, and as usual several pints of gut rotting el cheapo vino.
Towards the end of the evening, when everyone was pissed as farts, our hosts were descending into hysterical giggles, sidelong glances at each other and whispered 'no I'm not telling them' 'YOU tell them'...
Eventually they admitted that they had had no idea how to get the filling into the cannelloni, and had eventually settled on the inspired method of taking a mouthful of filling each and spitting it back into the pasta.
Boak.
We still meet up every now and then (all in our mid/late 30s now) and they're both very high up and respected in their chosen fields, but will never, ever be allowed to forget that one.