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| Unbridled flavour |
Thanks to recent government
tests, we at last know the shocking truth that half the food in Britain actually
consists almost entirely of horsemeat.
It turns out that the
Aldi shepherd’s pie I enjoyed yesterday evening couldn’t have contained more
horse DNA if it had taken it up the arse all night from Black Beauty.
So it seems it’s not
even safe to tuck into a plate of mashed potato these days without checking it first
for mane hairs and chunks of hoof. Unless it’s Halal cuisine served up in a
British prison, of course, in which case you need to be keeping your eyes
peeled for trotters and a curly tail.
I can’t say I’m entirely
surprised that it was the French who shipped us this disgusting shite. People
who routinely put molluscs, amphibians and unshaved beaver into their mouths
are hardly likely to turn a hair when faced with a dish of dobbin tartare. The
only thing that really shocks me is that they wanted to send it over here
instead of eating it all themselves and belching loudly across the channel.
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| A Romanian peasant enjoys a picnic |
Surprisingly reluctant
to take the blame for this culinary scandal entirely upon their own broad
shoulders, our Gallic cousins have nobly decided to point an accusing finger at
the organised crime-free, social utopia that is Eastern Europe. Why the hell not,
you ask?
Well, I’m sure there
are villages near the Russian border where tucking into a nag omelette is a
great way to celebrate a wedding, but why there should suddenly be half a
million dead horses ready for the table over there, I’m not exactly sure. If it’s
true, there must be a gigantic stable next to a meat packing factory somewhere
in Romania where they’re herding the bloody things into a chute around the
clock.
And come to think of
it, why would European Union food inspectors notice anything suspicious?
Especially if there’s a hand painted sign on the rusty gates that helpfully
proclaims: “Is nothing to see here. EU
spies please be go away thank you or we kill.”
Yep, there seems to be
so much equine based protein in the British food chain now, that I think all we
can do is just get used to it. We must learn to look forward to popping into KFC for
some Suffolk Punch nuggets, or visiting MacDonald’s to try the new Hindquarter
pounder, where kids can go large with filly fries, a foal flavoured fizzy drink
and amuse themselves with a complimentary plastic donkey called Yumyum.
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Of course, language
will have to evolve. It won’t be long before you hear people sighing: I’m so
hungry I could eat a Findus Lasagne, there’s no point flogging an Iceland readymeal,
Aldi bolognese sauces for courses etc…
But don’t despair
there’s always an upside: the next time your daughter relentlessly badgers you
for a pony for her birthday, just fry her up a burger from Tesco and stick a
candle in it.
