And as this arterial nightmare legion marched inexorably down the conveyer belt, one lonely figure brought up the rear guard. Almost pitiful in light of the odds stacked against it, a single Small Brown Loaf made a valiant representation of healthy eating. A single Hobbit against the Hordes of Mordor, it trudged dolefully past the scanner, probably aware that it was destined for kicking inside the carrier bag from ready meal and the chips, having one slice cut and then left to accumulate mould before being put out for the birds. Yet it held its crust up stoically in a gesture of Healthy Eating amongst insurmountable odds, destined for failure but determined nonetheless. I’m far from a bastion of Healthy Living, but compared to that I felt like a sanctum of digestive purity.
Yesterday I made a lunchtime dash to Tesco in order to get something slightly more appetising than the exorbitant and wilted sandwich selection available from the delivery van, and was witness to possibly the most heroic effort I have seen since one of those films where a very small dog makes a trip across America to be reunited with lost owners, surviving famine, a flood, some pestilence and a nuclear winter whilst helping an old blind lady to cross the road and preventing a terrorist insurgence along the way. You know the one.
As I queued at the checkout with my “healthy” salad in my basket, I couldn’t help but watch in silent despondency as the lady in front of me unloaded her small trolley onto the conveyer belt. I’m not saying that she was a large lady, merely that she was probably utterly reliant on McDonalds having double doors.** On went the following items:
2 frozen pizzas. A packet of burgers. A sausage and mash ready meal. A frozen Chicken Korma. A large bag of McCain’s Oven Ready Chips. Those round glazed biscuits with the hole in the middle. Economy fish fingers (the sort made with minimum 60% “fish”). Some frozen Minced Meat. A 24 pack of Mixed Party Snacks. A pair of 2l bottles of Tesco value Cola. A family sized bottle of Squeezy Ketchup.
Small Brown Loaf – One day a memorial will be raised in your honour.
**I may not be saying it, but she was. A right fat pig, with an arse cleft you could lose a child in.