Editor at Large

Posted by in March's Magazine

When you pass comment on a singularly attractive looking woman’s arrival in a room and your friends tell you to stop being a pervert. Or, when you make the understandable mistake of referring to your girlfriend as –  erm, your girlfriend – the same friends warn: “Now you’re just being creepy.” Why? You might be entitled to ask. “You’re to old to have a girlfriend, she is either your partner or significant other.” Add to these two heinous crimes the fact that not only are policemen getting younger, but they are also getting shorter and have even been known to stop and ask you for directions and people endlessly enquire: “No really, how old are you?” And well, you get the idea…you are getting old!

But mostly it is that booming voice in your conscience’s ear, the family doctor, who puts the cat among the pigeons on the age front. “You’ve got high cholesterol levels… but I’m not going to ask you to stop drinking” – oh, the good sense and humanity of the saintly fellow – “I must ask you though to have a serious think about the types of food you consume.” In one sentence he has wiped out consumption of all your favourite comfort (okay hangover cure) foods.



All day breakfast in a tin, an ingenious amalgam of; chipolata sausages, tiny scotch eggs, cubes of industrial black pudding, pallid diced potatoes and slivers of streaky bacon which have never been attached to any living animal, far less a pig, all swimming in a sea of beans? Gone

From the same company – whose bizarre genius should be recognised by the renaming of Edinburgh Castle in their honour – comes omelette, chips and beans in, you’ve guessed it, a tin. No real eggs have been killed in the making of the mini omelettes in this masterpiece, which have the texture and colour of a urine soaked disposable nappy. And what of the soggy potato cut to resemble flaccid, albino chips that taste singularly of soggy blotting paper? Gone

(By the way both the above ‘meals’, like revenge, are best served cold, straight from the can, preferably using the lid from the recently opened receptacle as a rudimentary spoon.)

Heinz spaghetti bolognaise on four slices of burnt toast with a whole block of tasteless orange cheddar grated over it? Gone.

And what of the legendary ‘Sair Finger’, first encountered in Yumble Dumbles, which involves the best part of a whole baguette stuffed with corned beef stovies given a bit of extra ballast by the addition of a whippet sized smoked sausage, topped off by battered onion rings and a ladle of green curry gravy (for textural variation)? Gone.

As toothless cooks in cowboy movies would say. “Them’s eatings!”

Gone. All gone.

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