Now anyone who is acquainted with me at any depth at all will know very well that whilst my foremost passion is of course weaving the kaleidoscope of melodies, symphonies and cacophonies I am so known and loved for, I have a somewhat infamous secondary obsession of sorts with that of what I tend to refer to as "Tidbits". Now you may know what a tidbit is or rather you may be familiar with the word, referring to a "tiddly bit" of something something, much in the same way that you might have heard of a tiddlywink being crudely referred to by some as a "tidwink". But when I, Lord Webber, say the word I mean something quite precise indeed! And lucky, lucky you - if you do not yet know what I mean as I am about to introduce you to one of life"s great pleasures.

How to make "Tidbits"

Firstly, go to the shop and buy two key ingredients: firstly, a loaf of very basic white, sliced bread. It doesn't have to be thick but I would recommend you get a large cross-sectioned loaf for reasons which shall make themselves known later! And secondly, a hearty wodge of whatever salted butter tickles your fancy. Please though, do not waste your time with a tub of anything, we are talking a wodge, a brick or a block of the stuff, you will cause yourself no end of bother if you have to spoon the contents out on to a worksurface - I mean occasionally needs must, but really you don't want this to taint what is an otherwise highly joyful process. Tidbits are in both the making and the eating, my loves!

Edit: Since initially publishing this piece some of my dear fans have asked me for a clear recommendation on the loaf and the butter, brandwise, so in the interest of directness, let me suggest you just go with the standard J. Sainsbury's white loaf and a block of down-the-middle, salted Lurpack.

So, you have your sliced white and you have your butter. I know it must seem absurd that a man with enough Ivor Novello awards to fill a bathtub (and believe me, I have done this, but that is another story entirely) would be so transfixed by a concoction of such humble ingredients, and indeed it is. I often turn to these as a midnight snack following the most lavish of meals at world-class restaurants, but as you must understand by now I am a man as attached to the process of creativity as its fruits. Anyway, I digress.

Cut the butter, straight from the fridge into 1/4 inch thick slabs. You may use a kitchen knife, I find a cheese knife to be most effective for consistent results. Now, with your slices of bread, lay them out end to end and give them what-for with the back of your elbow. Probably best at this point to remove any particularly fibrous jackets or shirts. But really get in there! I've found the crown of an Academy Award also works a treat if your elbows are either sheathed beyond your control or otherwise engaged. Just do your best with what you have and get some texture in there, boy.

The bread prepared, the butter sliced, and you've guessed it, the butter goes on top. But this isn't a sandwich, man alive! No, you should align the butter to the leftmost edge of the slices. You may find depending on the natural dimensions it may benefit from slicing the butter slabs again lengthways. This is an art not a science so do not be alarmed if this is required. Now you must apply a touch of vigour, embedding your tips straight into the layer of butter as you fold, fold, fold! We want to commit to a rolling action, creating a long sausage structure. However also do be careful to not overwork the cylinder at this point as the butter must remain solid. It is essential. A little tearing is ok and perhaps actually beneficial so please, I must insist you don't worry.

You are making smashing progress at this point so if you need a drink now's the time to pour the next glass of whatever you find yourself indulging in. I would happily consume several glasses of red over this process and I do find it aides the dexterity. Now, here is the part that you may not get first try - firstly put a pan on the stovetop on perhaps a medium heat with a little bacon grease and then activate those thumbs as they’re about to come in handy - or thumby should I say. Observing your work, you should isolate a segment of around 1 1/2 inches and plop your thumbs down on either side. Now you want to press like Billio, right into the surface with all your might, smearing outwards to as to form a comfortable seal for your segment. Do this all the way down your length until you're left with a handful of perfectly-pinched bombes.

Now you could very well throw these into your mouth right now and they would be a delight but I recommend you toss them in the pan and roll them around until they have a light browning to them. You really need to keep them rolling about to keep it even as a blackened Tidbit is always a crying shame. Roll and roll and roll, you really can't over-roll. I often like to imagine these are like the performers in my highly innovative and immensely successful show "Starlight Express". These athletes-cum-artistes, parading their skills in a poetic harmony around the stage or the pan, set to exquisite, critically celebrated, deeply moving songs about the very subject of locomotion itself.

And as i roll the wine in my glass and the ever browning Tidbits in my pan and I roll my eyes in anticipation of my upcoming snack I take the Tidbits straight from the heat and gobble them right up - bang bang bang! Scoldingly hot on the outside but still often chilled in the centre, providing you have followed my instructions faithfully. The contrast of heat, firmness, crunch, salt and chew - oh it is impossible to describe adequately you must simply try this yourself and discover it for yourself. I have entertained many a drinking partner, collaborator or associate with these and I implore you, too, to share these with someone. Life is for sharing, be it sizzlingly hot carbohydrate or instant-classic musical theatre, the Tidbits of our ears and the Tidbits of our mouths are there to be shared. And share you must. Share and share alike.

Some have suggested I dip these in ketchup or sprinkle with dried herbs but I am frankly not sold and I'm fairly sure I'd have discovered this as an idea independently if it were worth considering so it borders on offensive. The flavour is already ideal and the moisture is inherent and must not be tampered with via external influence be it condiment or soup. I hope very much that you try a Tidbit for yourself and report back with your successes! Perhaps I may try a Tidbit of yours some time!