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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Fish Bladders

Oh my God, the world has ended for me, life has no meaning and really there’s no point in continuing onward. I am instead going to spend the days that I have remaining to me sitting on my bed, weeping and gnashing my teeth, occasionally breaking off momentarily to shake my fist at the heavens and at other times folding into a fetal position from which I will make no sound at all, and merely rock myself unconscious.

It turns out the Guinness isn’t vegetarian friendly. It’s got bits of fish bladder in it.

It also turns out that some chocolate isn’t vegetarian. It’s got bits of sheep stomach lining in it.

And do you know? I could have continued my life not knowing either of those things, had it not been for the fact that I’m a weak-willed, guilt-wracked Guardian reader, and I’m beginning to think that they secretly delight in upsetting vegetarians because really they despise anyone that holds the same opinion as they do. (I’m also working on the theory that the Daily Mail works in exactly the same way, although, instead of vegetarians, they are constantly trying to upset the white middle class bigots who read their paper.)

I applaud the Mars company for making the moral decision to announce that they’re chopping up sheep bits and adding them to their Milky Ways, really I do, but dammit all to hell, I could have happily continued to eat them forever more, often more than once a day, if the bastards had kept their dirty little secret to themselves.

Fish bits I may be able to tolerate in my food – I have to admit that, in the past, I’ve been half way through a salad before realising that it’s Caeser Salad Dressing on my lettuce, which therefore means that there are some ever-so-tiny bits of anchovies floating about in mouth, and I’ve taken the executive decision to push the rest of the meal aside and pretend that it’s not happening rather than start crying, make myself vomit and ruin everyone else’s dinner. But I’m not sure I can knowingly sit down with a Bounty or Maltesers any time soon and do the same thing because now I know it’s there, it’s going to make me retch, or at least feel as much guilt as I would while bludgeoning a Labrador puppy to death.

People, I’ve got few principles left in my life that I’m attempting to stick to. I’ve long stopped tutting at people who drop litter, I occasionally drink fizzy drinks from cans and then can’t be ARSED to bring them to a recycling bin, I once killed a man just to watch him die, but the corporate stains at Guinness are making it VERY DIFFICULT INDEED for me to continue to be a good person, and I’m standing on the verge of becoming a pescetarian JUST SO I CAN GET A DECENT DRINK.

I’m never going to be able to eat Mars chocolate again though. You absolute bastards.


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