Eat Me

The world is coming to an end.

Terrorists are trying to blow us up and eradicate our kind. Global warming is going to either drown or toast us. Banks are refusing to lend us money. Soon we will no longer be able to afford to buy gas. Now there is a global food shortage and we may all starve. At minimum, it will cost an arm and a leg to eat.

This is great news for habitual dieters. Forget about Atkins, South Beach and Blood Type diets. Unaffordable food is a sure fire method of reducing caloric and fat intake. Celebrities are dropping the Cocaine and Marly diet in anticipation of this new fad.

I pine for the days of old when it was much easier to survive: swarming locusts; marauding barbarians; the plague; and consumption. Life was so much simpler back then.

It seems that we are so keen to be green that we have started burning half of our crops to fuel engines instead of using oil. The US government has generously incentivised this practice to thwart the Arabs. Let alone is it a significant contributor to the food shortage, it is reported to be worse for the environment than fossil fuels.

Bravfuckingo!

A combination of the reduction of arable land and fat bastards in the West who can eat the own body weight in a week have tipped the demand scales into a supply shortage.

If the crisis reaches fever pitch, I am willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for my love. I will suggest to Mrs. BB that in the event of anarchy, she eats me to survive. I trawl the internet for recipe ideas and prepare to make a number of marinades in advance. I make a note to stock up on skewers and charcoal and to pre-book a butcher.

Over a fine dinner starting with scallops and boudin noir in drizzled warm maple syrup accompanied by a 02 Puligny Montrachet followed by pan braised elk served rare on a pillow of whipped yams with a porcini and shallot red wine jus and an 82 Latour and concluding with a warm chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis a 98 Valpolicella and a wafer thin mint, the conversation inevitably strays to the global food shortage.

I ask my love what we will do in the event of a crisis. My emotions are swelling as I prepare to communicate to her my ultimate sacrificial pledge, recipe book in tow replete with helpful ideas and tips.

‘Darling, don’t worry’ Mrs BB whispers gently in a comforting tone, ‘if worse comes to worse you can convert all of the land you bought in Iowa for bio fuels and we can grow our own crops instead. No one is going starve sweet heart.’

I grow silent in slight embarrassment. She is right. I am saved. I keep mum and shelve my plans.

Mrs. BB has the beauty of a goddess, the brains of a rocket scientist, and the patience of a saint... and she loves my cooking. I love her sooo much! I love her more than chocolate!

I prepare the larder for a 2 ton delivery of sawdust. It makes a mean baking loaf and is gluten free.

Beaverboosh