Eat the Poor

FTSE, why don't you just shut up? You should be getting heated over the really important stuff, like whether Scotsmen love the Queen.

Kind, generous, thoughtful words as always FTSE. But my problem is this, how can we eat the poor? If they really are poor there would be no meat on them, just sinew and gristle. What we need to eat is a big fat banker, but then again i suppose it would all be fat, grease and lard!

Now Scots people that's another thing......

Det. Thorn: It's people. Soylent Green is made out of people. They're making our food out of people. Next thing they'll be breeding us like cattle for food. You've gotta tell them. You've gotta tell them!

Hatcher: I promise, Tiger. I promise. I'll tell the exchange.

Det. Thorn: You tell everybody. Listen to me, Hatcher. You've gotta tell them! Soylent Green is people! We've gotta stop them somehow!

(Soylent Green, 1973)

I saw this on the side pane on the homepage and I knew it would be one of yours FTSE. If it was a character in a story, I could say, 'I loved your portrayal of the racist sociopath character, really believable', but as it's your true belief, I have to say; I won't touch it with a barge pole, or a polevaulting pole, whichever is longer.

Does anybody really love the queen? I'm not sure even one of those gushing middle aged patriotic nutjobs 'loves' the queen, and if they do, then they are a gushing middle aged patriotic nutjob who needs to get out more.

It's so much nicer to eat the rich, as I've said before. Their flesh is tender, gym-toned, and nourished by organic foods and expensive mineral waters. Also, they're marinated in a better class of wine.

Gosh, the immigrants around your way are hard done by, Footsie. Ours jump off the boat and are straight down the council for zero-interest loans on Bugatis and exclusive apartments in converted medieval castles. One family with 32 kids (all of them working in minimum wage jobs our kids could have had) even get the loan of a council private jet to fly back to Skopje on the weekends to catch up with their relatives. Or so the bloke down the barber's shop told me, anyway, and I never argue with a bloke who's holding scissors close to my jugular...

I'm going to stick with my chicken thighs and do them with roast pots with peas, sweetcorn and gravy. I couldn't stand eating rich people. While they may be free-range, there's no point in eating a free-range piece of shite. Unpalatable in the extreme.
Your post did make me laugh, FTSE, especially the bit about the all-round view. I could the man in the travel agent really mulling over this option.
Of course you don't mean it, mate. It's just those dull moments need refreshing from time to time, I know.
The illegal immigrants don't get hols abroad as soon as they get here (you mean, not, the legal ones), unless they get nicked for being exploited by pikeys as a carwash technician and live underneath a caravan, a job no one else wants and which thoroughly undercuts the competition, much to the derision of punters, who feel sure they'd use the pricier option if only they could afford to. Even plod goes for the cheaper option every time in this wondrous land.
And yes I'm one of those middle-aged (not patriotic for political reasons) nutjobs who loves The Queen. She does something funny to my heart and kids from all over the world adore her so she's alright by me.
Got to go, Deal or No Deal is calling.

"You should be getting heated over the really important stuff, like whether Scotsmen love the Queen"

She gave me a shiny, new two-bob-bit and a tin of toffees when I was eight. That was nice, but we lost touch after that.

I love the Queen. What hot-blooded male could possibly resist her? She does, after all, have 'eey-aar' on her knickers. I know. I've seen them. She was going to have me beheaded or hung, drawn and quartered or something, but she took a fancy to me and let me live in the tower with the ravens where we could enjoy our little meetings in relative privacy because the Beefeaters (or beef curtain eaters, as she sometimes refers to them) are shit scared of catching bird flu. According to David Icke her maj thinks nothing of eating the poor while sitting on a jewel encrusted 22 carat gold throne in a thirty million quid hat making jokes about starving serfs with Philip. In bloody German.

Richard and Walrus... laughing hard here!

You know... I reckon ol' Thatch was probably a bit of a goer, too. Denis was always smiling, anyway.

I've just realised what a pig I sounded earlier. Not everyone who loves the queen is a nutjob, obviously. Geez you can't take me anywhere... Or leave me anywhere with internet connection.

I'll be in the corner if there's any 'leg au banker' left over!

Tucking into Diamond chops right now...

The Tory way to put Disabled people into work : Close Remploy factories. Why not kill us all (useless people) an' be done with it once and for all. But one day, you'll become old or disabled, then you'll get your just desserts too. Your comments may be funny, but (let me tell you a secret), the tories have REAL policies based on some of your thoughts... They're the ones who should be eaten or rather vomited out of this PLANET!

Can't argue with you there, Salim. Ken Clarke's probably not a bad bloke on the quiet, though....

Actually, DC's not too bad. The Camerons often come in the British Legion when they're down here staying at her aunt's. He gets a bit loud when he's had a couple, but that's probably where Oxford spoiled him. He stays pretty affable. It's her, though. A couple of vodka-Red Bulls and she's mouth almighty. A real gobby cow. Vitriolic stuff, too. She's a big fan of Ayn Rand, and it shows. I reckon she's the driving force, actually. Without her, he'd probably have gone into the soft furnishings business. He's a mine of information on fabrics, colour schemes and design co-ordination.

They've never yet left any of the kids behind, either. The aunt baby-sits.

Coincidentally, Stan, on and off between editing other pieces I'm working on a story about the Thatch. It all started off when someone on Facebook posted a quote that went something like this: "She may be the Iron Lady, but Thatcher has Marilyn Munroe's lips," to which an American friend added "If Margaret Thatcher has Marilyn Munroe's lips she keeps them in a jar of formaldehyde." That, of course, soon set my creative juices flowing, and if I have the balls to refer to her as Thatcher in that story instead of simply 'the Baroness' I may well be sued. I'm not sure about the legality of naming actual people (especially famous ones)in stories, and I must admit I've been guilty of it on several occasions. I know it's libellous to claim stuff about people in supposedly truthful accounts without rock hard evidence, but where do you stand if you make it crystal clear the crap you've turned out is fictional and it can't possible be true?

Hm. Well, the stuff I said about the Camerons is all true, so I'm alright there.

I checked this many moons ago with The Onion, when I was thinking of starting my own small satirical newspaper. I said it would be quite obvious that it was all fictional... but could it still be seen as libellous? They replied that they have lawyers who go through their stuff with a fine-tooth comb - even if the story is obviously made up. They don't take any chances. Private Eye's had a few lawsuits over the years, too.

Maybe someone else on here will know more.

It makes me wonder how comedians like Frankie Boyle get away with it, then, because he says whatever tickles his fancy. The butts of his jokes sometimes chuck their rattles out of their prams, but as far as I recall no one has threatened to sue him.

Maybe slander's a harder one to pin than libel. Anyway... anyone who is so self-important that they decided to sue Frankie Boyle for slander... well, they'd have it coming...

Life would be so fucking miserable if we couldn't have a few wee laughs at the expense of the rich, famous and powerful. My 'Yous Too' skits would probably get me letters from Bono's lawyers... but is he really going to be bothered when he makes a good enough job of sending himself up?

Too right. One particular tale of mine blames George Bush and Tony Blair for blowing up the World Trade Centre and invading Iraq in search of fictitious weapons of mass destruction (when everyone knows what they were really after was control of the oil reserves). Whether or not I personally believe that, I always thought, is irrelevant, because those accusations are presented in a work of fiction. The same tale also points a whole flurry of other fingers at other famous folk too. I'm getting in a tizzy about the issue now, and I really don't know whether it's wise to post it on here (or anywhere else, come to think of it).

Have you read Nicholson Baker's 'Checkpoint'? A dialogue between two guys, one of whom is bent on assassinating George W Bush. Don't think he got into any trouble over it. Mind, it's not one of his best.

No, I haven't read it. I guess it depends on whether or no the person mentioned decides to kick up a fuss or take it like water of a duck's back.

I wouldn't worry about it. Tony Blair and George W Bush are both war criminals, Bob Diamond is a greedy grabbing bastard, Tom Cruise is a certified fruitcake and the Pope is a transvestite. So... sue me!

A young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee, or a ragoust.

A Modest Proposal - Jonathan Swift - 1729

Full title: A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People From Being a Burden on Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick

They're not bad barbecued, either. Tramps are best done that way, too, as the Maillard reactions tend to take away some of the nastier whiffs - especially rampant gingivitis if you're going for a nice bit of tongue. And who doesn't want a nice bit of tongue?

Now, how do you know about Maillard reactions Stan? That's way outside most people's sphere of general knowledge! If you'd been in the cooking trade you'd have called it caramelisation.

The only TV chef I ever heard calling the Maillard reaction by its rightful name was Raymond Blanc, and that was a long, long time ago. He was presenting one of those 'cooking is chemistry' programs - a silly proposition since cooks, on the whole, don't make good chemists and chemists don't make good cooks. Kinda suggests they're not really doing the same thing.

Still, if people, bless 'em, want to believe that Heston Blumenthal is a scientist, why shouldn't they? After all he shares his initials - HB - with the Higgs boson. That can't be a coincidence.

For my part, I think there's about as much chance of Blumenthal discovering the Higgs boson in his kitchen as the LHC has of producing a perfectly cooked meringue. Even a 'scientific' frozen, smoking, popping one. And I was born in Heston, so I know what I'm talking about.

There are several points I'd like to make.
I've never eaten a child, poor or otherwise, so I can't comment on it. Maybe tomorrow - who knows?
I prefer to hang tramps in a wood smoking shed with my kippers - it gets rid of the lice and adds a lovely tangy flavour to the flesh.
A good tip with their tongues if they're a bit whiffy or cancerous is to marinade them overnight in home made garlic vinegar with a pinch of pickling spice and a handful of fresh thyme. I got that tip from Hannibal Lecter when he had just started harvesting the free-range rude, by the way - he used to live next door to me. He also showed me the right way to prepare human livers and serve them with a tin of Happy Shopper baked beans and a fine can of Kestrel Super (obviously this was before he was famous and he couldn't afford Fava beans and Chianti).
I didn't know that the Pope was a transvestite, by the way; I thought he was just a choir boy fondler like the rest of the so-called celibate bunch.....

Confession, Footsie. It's one of the few things I remember from science at school - apart from 'the male penis is inserted into the female vagina'. I always remember that, too.

Walrus - that marinade is best strained through some ripe underpants first. And don't forget the toenail cheese for a topping.

I have plenty of ripe underpants quietly fermenting in the laundry basket and under the bed, if they haven't hatched another escape plot with my socks - the German Shepherds patrolling the perimeter fence should put a stop to that little game. If you use the toenail cheese for topping, where do you put the knob cheese (or curtain cheese, if you're dealing with a female subject)?

As for who we should be eating, I thought it was the poor who were obese and the rich who were all fit and trim? Christ, there are some real fatties shopping at the Co-op, chewing contentedly on their crisps and chocolate and swigging fizzy sugar drinks just beyond the checkout - they can't even wait until they get home to start the day's munching. Cattle that feed themselves!

I'm sure you could run cars on refined whale fat.

Our Bob seems to have found a way of combining it all, Footsie...

http://s1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc495/MartianTom/Celebs/?action=view...

It would make more sense to eat athletes (as long as they aren't pumped full of steroids) after the best of them have a chance to breed and they have finished their sporting careers, but not too long after or they'll be all flabby. I wonder if Daley Thompson is busy tonight? I once had a nibble on Nancy Kominski, but that's a different story.....

Or WAGs. I mean, it can't be much of a life for them - choosing what next to wear, what next to buy. Chomp 'em down and put 'em out of their misery, I say.

Do you think it's morally justified to, you know, make use of the prettier ones before they go to slaughter, nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more, or is that going a bit too far? Only my garden needs some serious attention and the house could do with a very late spring clean.....