Thursday, 5 January 2012

Have a banana

What I want to know is, what are the United Nations doing to protect people like me, who don't like bananas? We're a pitifully small number of people, easily the numerical equal of any distant jungle or island tribe whose ancient way of life is deemed worthy of preservation. But we're also far more geographically dissipated, meaning that interbreeding to pass on the vital Bananas Are Shite gene (it's recessive) is difficult.

Not liking bananas isn't like not liking olives or brussels sprouts. The poxy, stupid, yellow bastards are considered to be so universally adored that they pop up everywhere. Oh, have some banana bread. Here's a banana smoothie. Here's an ice cream with a banana in it. We've flavoured your arse medicine with banana, get stuck in. You people out there who love bananas have created a world in your own image, forcing the huddled minority to shuffle about in a netherworld, gasping for potassium.

I'm two in the hole, actually. I don't like mashed potato either. It's a texture thing fundamentally but also a little bit a taste thing. You know how people complain that children don't know where food comes from these days? Well, my problem is the opposite one. I have seen a potato. I know a potato's ways. It's a hard brown thing what's lighter inside innit. The incongruity of mashed potato jars horribly with me. Why should that thing, which could be mistaken for a rock or a particularly unlucky mole, be imbued with the virtue of CREAMINESS? Oh sweet heavens it gives me the limpies.

This is my Everest

It's not just mashed potato, it's any puréed thing which would otherwise be solid and lumpen if we'd just left it alone and stopped bullying it. The way I figure it is that a human being, if they are lucky, might get 60 years with functioning teeth. Come your dotage, you'll have ample opportunity to cram mush down your gummy maw. All the while, no doubt, thinking, "I wish I'd not wasted so many of my good toothy years sucking down celeriac purée when I could have been honking on pork scratchings and raw carrots".

And again, the mashed menace is so universally adored as to make me a cowed refugee in my own land. I accept every dinner invitation with such happiness and gratitude, only to start to wonder if Nemesis will be there awaiting me. Will I ever be set free? Should I try and learn to love mashed spuds? Why aren't they willing to meet me half way? I don't want potatoes and me to fight, we have such a long and happy history.

My message to you all today is one of tolerance and acceptance of the beliefs of others. And when catering, stick to food that everyone enjoys. Like rollmop herrings, or gherkins.

4 comments:

mollbird said...

Today I heard a work friend (not the one that said that he'd already had the best days of his life) say that she went through a phase of eating banana and cheese sandwiches! Mind blown in a bad way!

dotmund said...

I think I have encountered this hellish combination before somewhere too. It makes me wonder if the world is too sick to survive.

clairebeanie said...

I love rollmops and gherkins. Where do you stand on cockles??

dotmund said...

I'm a big fan of cockles and all molluscs generally!

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