It is a well-known truism that a real man subsists on nothing but burgers, chips, ready meals and lager. It is a mark of respect that one should never offer a true gentleman a salad, for fear of offending the unwritten rule that a man who is offered salad more than five times in a row will end up being gutted by The Candyman, the fictional character created by Clive Barker.
Last year there was a large kerfuffle over horse meat being pumped into the nation’s ready meal based cheap comestible products. At the time some whacky nutters thought this would be detrimental to the nation as the meat products in question were not clearly labelled ‘Dobbin’. There were a few blatherings about the trade descriptions act and supermarkets misleading the public and all that palaver, but the actual fact is, horse meat is ruddy scrumptious, and they should probably chuck in a bit of dog as well while they’re at it.
Let’s face facts –everything that lives and is made of meat is bound to get turned into some sort of delicious burger related foodstuff at some point. They eat guinea pigs in Peru. They may be a squeaking pile of fluffy cuteness in this part of the world but over there they can’t wait to skewer the little fuckers and chuck ‘em on the barbecue, because the Peruvians know, at the end of the day, that guinea pigs and fucking tasty! The taste for what we in the UK would consider unusual meat products is universal – in some parts of the Deep South in America snake is part of the staple diet, in areas of Russia donkey meat is favoured over pig, and in the Polar Regions BBC natural history crews are considered a rare delicacy.
Salad is the enemy of all man. It robs him of his masculinity, makes him grow a goatee and horn rimmed glasses, and can lead to the unholy practice of contemplative beard scratching. A man who eats salad is a man who spends his time wearing jackets with elbow patches and smoking a pipe. A gentleman with an affection for greenery on his plate is more likely to be beaten up by a hamster or laughed at by naughty ladies. It is scientifically proven in The Institute For Scratching Your Bollocks that eating plant life reduces your life span as well as the size of a man’s penis (ironically it increases the length of a woman’s penis). A seasoned meat eater, like Hannibal Lector, understands the real value of eating a policeman’s face. Hey, it may not be sold in the supermarkets, but its ruddy well tasty with a bit of brown sauce on it.
This all goes back to government control. You see, the ruling classes are suffering from a schizophrenic attitude to the subject of being a bean eating tree hugger. On the one hand they plead that we should be eating healthier so we can live longer and be more energetic and take some of the burden off the NHS who are forever wheeling fatties into the emergency room after they’ve scoffed the contents of the nearest McDonald’s bin, and yet on the other hand you would think it was more propitious of them to encourage the tubsters to chuck as much lard down their gullets as possible. After all, if someone’s avoiding every salad they possibly can and becoming A Friend of Greggs they will exponentially increase in mass and therefore strengthen their chances of keeling over at the very idea of walking against a slight breeze . This may lead to their eventual spout of bucket kicking which will end up taking the pressure off the NHS anyway and adding more to the economy as funeral directors have to build larger coffins and hire industrial diggers to plough their elephant sized graves. It all makes sound economic sense. If I were The Jeremy Cunt, the Secretary of State for Health, I would be handing out free tubs of ice cream and chocolate to anyone who looked as though they had trouble fitting themselves through a doorway.
So, basically, we should encourage the more personality-based members of this country to do their bit for the growing economy by getting out there and start stuffing their aesthetically challenging faces with handfuls of burgers and chips. Not only will it free the NHS up it will keep the nations takeaways and funeral parlors in business.
Note: It has been brought to my attention that this column unfairly attacks those of a tubular disposition and it should be noted that thin people can also be figures of fun. After all, both Hitler, Thatcher and Blair were thin, and they were bloody maniacs. In fact, maybe if they’d eaten a few more burgers they’d be happier and more fulfilled and less inclined to start wars, kill off the nation’s industries and invade countries.
Another Note: The author of this piece would like to point out he is also a bit of a tubster, and if someone tried to take his burger away from him they’d die where they stand.
Yet Another Note: It should also be noted that Michael Bay is thin, despite being American and he’s a massive cockring. Orson Welles was a massive wobbling jelly of nothing but wine and pies by the end of his career and he was STILL knocking out classics.
One More Note: Did I mention how much of a cunt Michael Bay is? Yep? Okay, just checking.