Posted 11:16 AM by Paul
Invasion of the Killer Donuts


The papers over here have been full of stories about the epidemic of obesity that is sweeping the UK. The source of this scourge is of course the USA, and things are about to get worse.

We poor Brits are unable to fight back, because the Yanks have planted smart computer chips in each Crispy Creme donut, which render resistance useless. Our natural yearning for grilled trout and steamed vegetables is neutralised by the all-conquering evil empire, which is seeking full spectrum dominance of our stomachs.

Obesity is a serious issue and the jury is still out on what causes it. Too many Big Macs, Genetics or a mixtures of both? It cannot simply be excess food intake otherwise I would look like Police Chief Wiggum. I remember a calorie counting project at school when I was 14. We had to take a diary of what we ate on Saturday and Sunday and it transpired that I took on board 10,000 calories over the average weekend. The teacher informed the class that this was what a Ukrainian coal miner on 12 hour night shifts would need. Not a slightly built and exceptionally lazy British schoolboy. My point is simple. We have never needed any help from the USA in eating too much fat.

Back in the 60s the average working class household only ever saw fruit when someone was seriously ill. Greenery was restricted to cabbage with all nutrients boiled out it and the occasional limp salad complimented by processed cheese spread. In the North of England we gorged on fried fish in batter with piles of chips smothered in salt and a form of ersatz vinegar called non brewed condiment. This was a brown acidic industrial by-product and not actually a food stuff at all. Fried food was usually washed down with fizzy pop or pints of hot sweet tea. Any adult offering us sugar free drinks would have been reported to the police. Weirdo.

There were also regional variations in the English diet. In the South, working folk would eat saveloys (a kind of smoked sausage that tastes of poo) and meat pies with a stodgy crust. In Scotland the English diet was considered a bit lightweight. Mars Bars in batter, fried pizzas and battered black pudding (a form of fatty blood sausage) was and still is the traditional way to end of night of heavy drinking North of the Border. I am told in rural Lincolnshire that families used to sit down to Sunday lunch starting with sponge pudding in a thick sweet custard and then move on to the meat and roast potatoes main course. I don't know if this is true. But I desperately want to believe it.

There were high protein low fat meals. My mother occasionally cooked steamed mussels which I loved. She also cooked braised rabbit for my dad, which I refused in a show of solidarity with Sidney, my pet bunny. Things changed in the 70s with the advent of more frozen food, which was produced at a huge factory just outside town. My favorite was pancakes stuffed with cheese sauce. You fried them in lard of course. Was there any other method of preparing hot food?

When I was a boy the British did not need any help from Uncle Sam in the field of saturated fats. I remember my first Big Mac. I was impressed by the sophisticated idea of placing a gherkin and salad next to a beefburger. It was the salad, not the meat that was the gastro-cultural imperialism.

But now the papers are alarmed at the forthcoming invasion of the Crispy Crème, a delicacy that is at the moment only available in the UK at Harrods Food Hall. A concerned dietician pointed out that the standard model clocked in at 300 calories but the super double chocolate malt reached a staggering 500 calories. But then she admitted, " but they are delicious. They just kind of melt in your mouth." But the Crispy Crème still doesn’t match the glucose and at firepower of the Mars Bar. There are still some things that make you proud to be British.

We should relax, because this cultural invasion is a two way street. McDonalds are posting losses in the UK for the first time even as we await the arrival of the Crispy Creme with bated breath. Upwardly mobile African Americans are drinking French Cognac, wearing Burberry and driving BMWs. If we don't like what America has to offer we can JUST SAY NO, or offer them something better and tax US imports if they try to block our products with tariff barriers.

Got to go. I am just off to get my supper at the local Fish and Chip shop. It's run by a Chinese bloke.