Random Doobings

Goodtime Slim waited at the dinner table a trifle nervously as Captain Doobie brought out the dinner. He was nervous because all of Captain Doobie's previous attempts to cook tended to result in acute abdominal pains, vomiting and (on one notable occasion) forcible defenestration. However, he calmed himself with the reminder that Captain Doobie had recently been to a cooking course at TAFE and things might not be as bad as they had once been.
Captain Doobie came out of the kitchen and laid a covered platter in front of Goodtime Slim. With a flourish and a cry of "Voila!" Captain Doobie removed the cover.
With the cover's removal was revealed a small, blackened lump covered in the vitrified remains of what might once have been gravy. To the side were what can only be described as the burnt-out husks of potatoes. There was a short silence.
"There you are then," said Captain Doobie, covering (he thought) very well, "a meal fit for a king."
"A king?" replied Goodtime Slim in amazement, "King of where? Shitsville? Shittington? Shitford-apon-Avon? Shitwood Forest? Shitraq? Shitgolia? The Glorious People's Democratic Republic of Shit? Shittesuela? Shitterguay? The Lost Continent of Shit, that became so shitty that it collapsed under the weight of its own shit and sank shittily into the ocean?"
There was another short silence.
"So you don't fancy it then?"
"Not altogether, no."