Manwich

Yeah that's right, Man Tips, because the fact that you have a penis, doesn't make you a man. But guess what, I do have a penis (allegedly) and I AM a man (allegedly) and I am taking it as my duty to teach YOU how to stride through life like the courageous battle hero that you are.

TIP #1 - MAN FOOD

Real men eat real food. Do you think that Patrick Swayze became 'Roadhouse' because he spent his days eating tofu? Of course he didn't. He got it, because of the sandwich Manwich, the fifth element and the purest form of artistic expression known in the universe.

So now you're sitting there thinking "God-damn I'm hungry, fucking beautiful women and watching kung-fu all day has given me an insatiable yearn for foodstuffs", I know this because I can see you, sitting in your chair like it was an exuberant throne of excellence. Stand up son, its time to make you a man.

Before you can even attempt to think about making your manwich, you need to dress the part. Everyone knows that there are two constants in life; crime and power, and nothing sums up these themes better than pimps and gangsters. Lets combine the two and prepare for war.

Feels good doesn't it. The fedora makes you look like James Caan, the coat makes you feel like Rick James. On the inside you are merely organs, but on the outside you are Rick Caan, or James James. Studly.

Now that you are dressed to impress, get your perfectly formed glutes down to your kitchen and get your ingredients soldier.

And there they are - white bread, fresh chicken, butter, barbecue sauce and crisps. No salad though, Bugs Bunny ate salad and you know what happened to him? That's right, Elmur Fudd shot him in the neck, dressed him up as Girl Bunny and skullfucked him.

So now you've hunted and gathered your ingredients, you need something to cook that fowl carcass on...

You don't want to be fannying around with ovens and hobs, you want to cook on something developed by an expert in punching people square in the face. Step-up George Foreman grill, its time for action.

You open him up and you're met with this, what do you do? The answer - nothing. Some may call this grease, some may call it disgusting, but it is merely nothing more than the victorious juice of your last culinary conquest. This is your grill's badge of honour, and he is going to wear it with pride.

While you're waiting for George to warm-up you should apply a vigorous amount of butter to your bread, because real men, like the boy scouts they grew from, are always prepared. Now butter the bread as if you were caressing a lady, or carefully whittling a piece of fine oak, after all, this bread is the armour to your manwich's chickeny core.

The grill is heated up nice like a recently used flamethrower, time to lay your poultry companion upon the strips of heated glory, for about 15 minutes at least.

While you are waiting for him to be cooked until perfect, you may wish to engage in other manly activities;

Activities such as writing swear words on the fridge...

Watching internet videos of bears fighting with certified heroes...

Flicking coins across your knuckles like a riverboat gambler...

Or drawing pictures of Batman, all are worthwhile pursuits for any budding man.

After fifteen minutes he's ready. Look at him, all crispy, golden and noble, like George Hamilton. Before you go eating this fine product of evolution, you need to check if he is pink in the middle because if he is, you want to burn his bitch-ass a little longer.

Is he pink? Is he fuck. He's raring to go, begging you to tuck into his delicious flesh like your fore-fathers and wolves have done for the last 48 million years.

Its time, time to carve that sucker and introduce him to his new best buddy in the entire world - Captain bread.

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "Damn, I could just stick my dick into the middle of this and be gone for the night", but don't as this would not only burn your best friend, but would also render the manwich inedible and a negotiable failure. Resist the urge apprentice, it'll be worth it.

Time to sauce it up. You wouldn't leave the house for a hot date without musking up would you? Of course not, as musk = guaranteed sex, and possibly a car and some kind of sporting victory. Sauce is a manwich's musk, and vital to maximise enjoyment. Our sauce of choice? Barbecue, because not only does it taste outstanding, but its main ingredients are metal and fire. Damn its masculine.

After the sauce comes the bed of crisps. Now most people will say it doesn't matter what flavour crisps you add, and those people are wrong. You need a pack of ready salted to back up your manwich, to add texture and noise, whilst not distracting you from the taste. By all means do not, I repeat DO NOT use chicken crisps, that's just a step too far.

He's finished, and by God is he handsome. Now I know what you're thinking, you want to cut him into tiny pieces don't you. Resist the urge, you've already proven your manliness by concocting this collaboration of awesomeness, you don't need to prove anything. Besides, disecting this rude-boy would suggest that you aren't man enough to eat it in one sitting, and we all know that's a lie.

So now my son, you must eat. How does it taste?

It tastes like the ending to 'Rocky III' - hard earned masculine triumph. Welcome my child, into the world of the Y chromosome, a world of fine women, legendary battles and victory over nature.