The place where pizza comes to be written about

A declaration of transparency

The noble blogger, seen here kissing a cherubic infant

The many, many thousands of viewers who flock to 12 Inch Pete Treat on an hourly basis do so to take delight in my fanciful dissections of the world of the pizza and the wild, dizzying esoterica that it attracts. However, there are, in among those satisfied hordes, a tiny, dissenting few who object to my innocent love of all things doughy. “Come off it, Cashmore!” they trumpet. “This isn’t really a labour of love for you, any more than your humble south-west London one-bed is the Palace Of sodding Versailles! You’re just in it for the short con, the quick takedown, the fast buck! Are we making ourselves clear here? We think you’re only doing it to get free pizzas, Pete! And we’d have a lot more respect for you if you’d just admit it!”

Well, to these people I say this: firstly, I do not need your respect, as I am not a hip-hop musician from the early 1990s looking for a lucrative dotage farting out lacklustre appearances on posse cuts. I’d like to be one of those, but I’m not. That’s by the by, however – my main source* of pique is at the notion that I am only doing this blog on pizzas in order to gain further free pizzas to blog about. The very idea horrifies me, and has indeed made me burst into unreasonable tears in several major supermarkets (and the only reason I am usually at supermarkets is to PAY FOR PIZZAS WITH MY OWN HARD-EARNED MONEY, to add irony to injury). Even so, my constant assurances that I am in it to write about dough, rather than scrimp on it, are not enough to satisfy some cynics, whose views are as unshakeable as a cocktail shaker that for some reason has been constructed in a manner that makes it unfit for purpose due to a basic inability to be shaken despite its being a cocktail shaker. If anybody has a better simile for unshakeability than that, frankly, I’m all ears.

A cocktail shaker, of the type used in Pete's poor-quality simile (see above)

So, in order to silence my detractors (and you know who you are, Paul Snett of Derby and Gareth Chkäk of South Wales) once and for all, I have decided to issue a full, honest and entirely transparent declaration of everything that I have gained in my time as Wolverhampton’s foremost pizza blogger, like when that journalist bloke revealed all his income and it was a fuck of a sight more than what I earn. If I publish and be damned by all, then so be it, but I will go to my grave with a clear conscience. And with my diet in its current state, that could be a lot sooner than you think.


1. One Dominos pizza key-ring, presented as a gift to girlfriend, and four Dominos pens, which I now use to do notes.

A keyring that I gave to the missus

2. Six vouchers of a value up to and including £2.99 for Goodfellas pizza, to be used to sample their new range of stuff, as yet unredeemed (I start this weekend).

I got given six of these, OKAY?

3. An invitation from Dominos Pizza to spend a day in the new year sometime working as a pizzaiola in one of their restaurants, an invitation which quite frankly is the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life.

4. A meeting with a corporate promotional character called Danny Domino.

Danny Domino, apparently being mugged

So you see. Given that points three and four have no fiduciary value whatsoever (with all due respect to the good people of Dominos, it’s not like I can sell my place to someone else who wants to spend a day working as a pizza chef, it’s hardly a seat on the first commercial space flight) my total declared “income” for sweating blood over 12 Inch Pete Treat is just over £20. To put it another way, I am not corrupt, and cannot be corrupted, not with free pizzas, nor complimentary sides, nor all the dips my shelves may hold.

Gratuitous kitten shot

That said, if you happen to work for Papa John’s, Pizza GoGo, Tops, Firezza or Strada, you could at least have a crack at it, yeah?

* Clever  reference to 1990s hip-hop


Filed under: Uncategorized

3 Responses

  1. girlinaspin says:

    I have a pizza related enquiry. I’d like to know if you’ve ever found alternative uses for those tiny white cake-stand-esque things that adorn the centre of takeaway pizzas?

    I always feel wasteful throwing them away…

  2. zuma75 says:

    If I could be so bold as to answer the above enquiry on your behalf Peter, those tiny white cake stand things you get in takeaway pizza boxes make ideal summer patio tables for mouses.

  3. girlinaspin says:

    Or a floating pontoon for restful gnats?

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