Nobbut Laiking, by Ross Brewster
In my humble opinion, you can’t beat a full English to start the day. Especially with two extra slices of black pudding.
Nowt wrong with that I hear you say. Well, according to an article in the British Medical Journal, I’m well on my way to becoming an addict. Indeed I’ve already plumbed the depths of human degradation.
The BMJ says, as a result of a study carried out in 36 countries, my eating habits put me on a level with alcoholics and smokers. Some processed foods are introducing effects similar to booze and nicotine and I am probably one of the 14 per cent of adults who are hooked on addictive food.
But, as our mothers used to tell us, a little of what you fancy does you good. Everything In moderation.
It’s not like I’m scoffing the full works — fried egg, bacon, beans, hash browns, mushrooms, black pud — every day of the week. It’s a treat when I have done my early morning shopping.
The BMJ wants certain food to be labelled “addictive”. A bit like fag packets maybe. Pictures of fat blokes on the packaging. Warnings that this and that food item can lead to a grisly death.
So what can we eat? Grass. Tree bark. We are destined to become the tofu eaters. Future generations may grow up never tasting the delights of crispy bacon.
Yes, grossly overweight people do need help, but for most of us eating is one of life’s remaining pleasures. In this new puritan age it’s a sin against society to enjoy a small sherry, have a 10p bet on the horses and now to savour the occasional full English.
For us oldies these are the things that keep us alive. Our arthritic bodies won’t permit us to enjoy the pleasures of the past. The last straw is being told we meet the criteria for “substance use disorder”. Yes, the condition has a title; UPF’s, short for ultra-processed foods. And yes, we’re categorised along with down and outs drinking meths in shop doorways.
We don’t snort cocaine and I’m reasonably certain regular readers are not habitual wacky baccy smokers. Actually the medics don’t seem all that fussed if we are doing drugs. No, we are more likely to be condemned for that second slice of black pudding.
Think of me as the fun police arrive to drag me from Morrisons’ caff. Criminalised by a fried egg.
Spare a thought for the ghost writers
It’s that time of year when the bookshelves in the shops are likely to be crammed with what purport to be the autobiographies of minor reality TV celebrities and footballers barely past the age of 21.
I wonder how many of these books are actually written by the so-called stars. I know for a fact some never even read their ghost-written stories. They say “by Joe Bloggs” and underneath somewhere in small print is the name of the writer who actually put it together based on a few disinterested chats.
I was once offered the job of ghosting a sporting legend’s autobiography. It didn’t interest me. For starters he was getting 50 times my fee.
Remember when you receive that Christmas gift about your favourite player, he probably contributed nothing more than a few mumbled quotes. The real writer supplied all the cliches — and definitely wasn’t over the moon about it.
Blotting her copy book
I’m presuming the Shadow Chancellor Rachel Reeves wrote every word of her recently published book which labours under the enticing title The Women Who Make Modern Economics. Unfortunately she was accused of plagiarising chunks of Wikipedia and the Guardian.
We all use quotes, but they have to be attributed. The publishers say any inadvertent mistakes will be rectified in future reprints of Ms Reeves’s riveting read.
There is an old saying that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and maybe Ms Reeves was simply drawing on the wisdom of others. Odd though that, after being hailed one of the stars of the Labour conference and praised by former Tory Chancellor Ken Clarke, she got into this literary pickle. Perhaps a good ghost writer would have warned her.
We will remember the way we were treated
Bring out your dead pensioners and paint white crosses on their doors.
It wasn’t quite that bad, but some of the comments attributed to Boris Johnson during Covid might have been more associated with the Black Death in the 1300s than a 21st century pandemic.
I have been around a long time, but even I am not old enough to have reported on the bubonic plague which killed up to 200 million when it peaked in Europe between 1347 and 1351. One third of the English population died in the outbreak.
Boris clearly had thoughts of letting older folk “take their chances” and keeping the economy moving. As it was, many older people were moved out from hospitals into care homes where relatives were denied the opportunity of hugging them or just touching hands before they died.
It was to be “nature’s way” of dealing with the elderly. Well, we are not finished yet, and we will remember how they talked about us like dead meat.
