If you keep an eye on the news, you’ll no doubt be no stranger to the odd health scare.
There’s barely a month goes by without a report being published telling the great British public that some food, drink or pastime is bad for them.
But the latest release from those science types really got me sizzling.
You can take away our diesel cars (Mother dearest has a VW and is desperately hoping somebody will), we’ll happily do without talcum powder (what is it for unless you own a swimming cap) but for goodness sake, hands of my bacon sandwich.
The World Health Organisation announced last week that processed meat – including bacon and sausages – increased the risk of certain types of cancer.
It was, of course, treated with all the hype such announcements attract in the 24-hour news world.
Such was the level of coverage (and the glee among evangeilical vegetarians) that now the WHO has been forced to clarifty the new classification.
Even if they hadn’t, I think I’d still be willing to take the gamble.
After all, what’s the point of living 100 years and never having any fun?Having already given up tobacco and scaled back the booze, I’ve already increased my chances of a long and healthy life.
I’m just not ready to say goodbye to a fry up or a good mixed grill or the brilliant simplicity of a bacon sandwich (white bread, lots of butter, don’t even think about sauce).
The bacon butty is a British institution, something no other country gets quite right.
The Americans have sweetcure bacon, sticky and sickly and overly crisp.
The French, even if they could get the meat right, would still be hamstrung by the baguette.
And I was disgusted earlier this year to find an airport outlet selling bacon on a brioche bun.
Health scare or not, simplicity is the key,
Give me a nice bit of British back (or even better rind-on middle), a frying pan and a nice fresh loaf and I’m halfway to heaven.