Just when. (some random and hopefully amusing musings)

[Paul_C]

Just when did someone decide that the idea of wafer thin Meat was somehow a good idea? and just how the hell did we fall for it?

were there people realy going into a pub asking for wafer thin ham egg n chips? no no thats to thick, i want something i can read through. take away all the meaty nommy goodness and replace it with something with less actual taste per slice than an overaged bran flake that failed quality control.

i mean seriously did the people walk up to a supermarket deli counter one day and say. I am very sorry but the sliced meat you give us at EXTORTIONATE prices is well, just too damm tasty, i would rather you stopped this whole quality malarky and replaced it with something well watery and a bit Meh. You know a meaty parody of the British summer holiday if you would like a visual metaphor. Alot of promise, keenly waited for, followed by alot of damp, letdown and total lack of substance and a hell of alot of very bad tasteing elements. that what we want please. none of this quality rubbish. thats well just un english. followed by a snort.

then we have a related subject wich is extremly close to my own heart, and probably clogging it up if the truth be told.

this is the holy goodness which is BACONS. now BACONS has capitalsquite simply because to men it is Godlike. im sorry to lower the tone a little ladies but you quite simply do not have the capcity to experiance something which Mankind has come to Term as the Bacongasme. its a veyr common thing in a mans life, its when he bites into a bit of realy good bacon and slides a few inches down in teh chair, lets out a huge contented sigh and murmers gently "mmmmmmmmmmmmm Bacons". im sorry ladies but you just are unable to fully apreaciate the perfect joining of man and salted pig parts in such an elemental manner.
just like mens mind just cant comprehend Shoes and why having the suqare root of infintys pairs worth simply is not enough and the man has to invest in parralle unbiverse simply to store them for you so you have your "thing" and we have ours.

now as you can possibly formulate, i kind of like bacon. now this is a common misunderstanding, im actualy in a highly complex long term relationship with bacon which has been sullied, sullied i tell you with what the supermarkets are passing off as bacon now.

now some may possibly like the fact that they can read the Times thhrough there bacon. and i dont mean a single rasher i mean the whole damm pack.

Myself however and each and every man out there, no matter how much he will go with the slutty, easy, petrol station packet of bacon, like bacon to be a taddest bit more meaty. if i slap somone with a rasher i expect it to result in a GBH charge, and if i elect to use a whole wad of it, quite frankly thats tanamount to a declaration of war. i want my bacon when it hits the counter top to THUD not squlech.
i expect to burn of the callories in the bacon i eat by simply lifting it a few times. Big Meaty. MANLY bacons.

yet i am oft tempted by the wanton harlot that is sainsburys Chilled Piggy Isle. which is to the hungover man what vallhalla is to a viking. but i am sold a lie.
a lie which weighs hevily on my soul, each and every time i venure into that unhallowed strip of tantilising placed porkness. because the lie is that i am not purchasing that godlike, emotional rollercoaster which is the one true bacon, instead i am finding i am purchasing the IDEA of bacon. bacon with none of the substance. or atleast that was all i got with the last load of danepack i boight, cause after it was cooked there was bugger all bacon to be found.

this does give rise to the Concept first posed by his hollyness the Terry of Pratchet, where he mused upon the possibility this is why the smell of sausages always far surpasses the actual sause that you consume, as if the sausagidity has been transposed to a more holy, and somewhat more pork filled, universe.
f

[Zech]

Sorry, you lost me at the 'shoes' bit.

[MuddyWitch]

I've always suspected I'm a bloke with boobs, 'cos I'm with you on the bacongasme and shoes leave me troubled...Despite my XX chromosomes, I rarely have more than trainers, walking/gardening boots and the odd pair of wellies to my name. (To the annoyance of my daughters who say these are unsuitable foot wear for 'shopping'. That's good though as I lothe this pass time too)

Thank-you for you musings and keep them coming.

MW

[Thomzo]

Ha - yes that did amuse me, and too true. Fortunately, the Co-op near me sells very good, British bacon and I don't buy cooked ham on principle.

Zoe

[Lost-in-the-Day]

Declaration of war via bacon! PLEASE let their be an occasion at some point in my life where I can at least witness if not partake in this!

[Keaniebean]

Yes, i'm with Muddy witch there, although insert crocs (and I don't care who knows it )for trainers.

[Paul_C]

it was the dawn for early man, an evil unknown noise rouses it from its slumber within a dark feted hole where no sane creature dares to tread, the remains of past meals strewn about like gory trophies.

a hairy shambling creature groans in the depths of its hovel at this intrusion. and then it emerges blinking into the light and its shambling form can be seen for the first time.
hair wild and in disarray, limbs like lead weights hang lifelessly from its joints and it shuffles on to begin its daily quest to forrage for sustiance in a bleak uncaring world.

it stands for a moment, as it blinks into the bright orb in the sky mutttering untranslatabel oaths in a gutteral forign tounge as the bright harsh light finishes the work of the unknown sound bringing it fully to life, and then he scrtches his balls in a meaningful way, as if to kickstart the braincell it possesses. and then starts to shuffle towards a known source of sustiance,. this walk is full of hazzards for it, hazzards the unwary would befall. untill he reaches it, a portal to sustinance. a portal the very gods have left for him.

this early man also has to harness fire, which he does slowly and it takes many attempts to make it work. each failiure accompanied by ever more dangouse sounding oaths muttered in this same strage tounge.

he creates fire, and is pleased, he forages within the sacred portal of the gods,



































































and then the student makes a bacon and egg sarnie and a cup of tea.

[Stonehead]

There is a solution. I use it myself. I rear my pigs, butcher my own bacon joints, cure my bacon with a home-made cure, carve thick rashers off the cured slab with my freshly sharpened knife, fry it it in my cast iron pan over an open wood fire in my Victorian range cooker, and finish by stacking my bacon between slabs of my fresh-made bread. Add a pint of my home-made scrumpy and it's 'real man' heaven. Mmmmmmmmm.

[Millymollymandy]

Shoes? What are they? My OH's footwear takes up far more space than mine.

Enjoying this thread.