"You can't just throw some sauce on grilled chicken and call it jerk".
Purists will also no doubt say that you can't call it jerk unless it is cooked over live fire and enhanced by its smoke, which can be achieved in a hinged oil drum barbecue (or a Weber if you must).
Her double entendres were unintentional but much loved: bending over an apprentice in Putney ("I've never seen a tool as big as that!") or declining to fire a field gun on her Falklands victory tour ("Won't it jerk me off?").
Running to the Sea, featuring Susanne Sundfør, starts as one of those sleek, streamlined dancefloor numbers, builds gradually, then adds for its last minute – as if nothing could be more natural – a martial drum pattern that makes it jerk and shake.
"Goodness!" she replied, "won't it jerk me off?" The problem with this unintentional smut – bizarrely frequent – was that nobody could ever laugh or even look remotely amused because of the terrible fear that she might turn to you and inquire in that blood-freezing fashion what was so very funny.
I was facing it, taking care of her, and remaining in control of my anxiety instead of letting it jerk me around.
