This is still my stuff.

Yeah, baby. These things are IT. The boz boz. The real deal. They, and the restaurant I ate them in, are so good that I'm actually not going to say where it is, for fear of causing a stampede and consequently not being able to get a table there next time I visit, which will be soon, oh yes. Shame about the spot of sauce, but it's uncharasterically imprecise, and when the rolls look and taste like this, I'm prepared to forgive the occasional slip, even to redress the universal imbalance of the blemish by leaving this sentence unembellished by a closing full stop