This post contains:
140% RDA Annoyance
2000% RDA Vitriol
200% RDA Swearing
Well, actually I wasn't heartened. Quite the opposite, in fact. I can honestly say that if I want to eat a biscuit, I couldn't care less how healthy it is. Baked goods are hardly part of a nutritious breakfast - so why, in the name of all that's holy, does the nutritional content of a biscuit matter at all?
There are some times when the content of one's food matters. I'd prefer it if my Diet Coke didn't contain radioactive slurry, for example. And obviously I would be a touch irked to discover that my QUarter Pounder contained lean flank and forequarter rat**. But in the case of a McVities biscuit, it is most assuredly not one of those times.
It's a biscuit, for fuck's sake, not a fucking multivitamin. Have you ever tried dunking a fucking vitamin tablet in your tea? It's not pleasant. And on top of that, I've never managed to find a multivit that is best when it's coated in plain chocolate. God knows I've tried.
But McVities, while deserving winners of this week's Twats Of The Week, are merely the first target for this morning's barrage. Because it's fucking hard to savour my morning coffee and Sky News when the commercial breaks are jammed to the gills with irrelevant bollocks telling me the interesting and novel ways my diet is going to kill me.
In the space of one ad-break, I've had Gloria Fucking Hunniford telling me that I need to switch from (tasty) butter to a vile chemical slurry masquerading as margarine in order to bring my cholesterol down to 4.3***. Nestle have lectured me about wholegrain in my cereal, Birds Eye on Omega 3. I've had the Goonvernment and their Nanny cohorts cautioning that if I have anything more than one wine gum a month my skin will become transparent and I'll die a horrible painful death (or something), and it now appears that smoking causes chronic umbrella dysfunction. At least, I think that's what the ad was saying. My elevated fucking blood pressure was affecting my vision by that point.
It would appear that by their insistence on preaching at me about my health, and forcing all food manufacturers to follow suit and laud the health-giving characteristics of their products rather than important things like flavour and quality, the Healthists are going to give me a fucking coronary out of simple rage. Stop, stop, just fucking STOP preaching.
This is LIFE. You'll only get one of them, so rather than worrying that a chocolate Hob-Nob will cause cancer, how about just enjoying it?
Because if you listen to, worry about and slavishly follow all the 'eat this, don't eat that' edicts and pronouncements in case you die early, then you're simply eking out a joyless, pointless existence in the pursuit of longevity. And longevity, dear Reader, is not the same as life.
So. Advertisers, food manufacturers and Government - please, stop. Stop. Stop fucking preaching, warning, cajoling and cautioning. Most of us don't care, and don't want you foisting your lifestyle decisions upon us. Leave us alone, let us enjoy our food and our lives. And please, do us all a favour and set yourselves on fire - though I doubt there's sufficient fat in your wholegrain-fed carcases actually to burn.
*No pun intended.
**Note that I said 'to discover'. I'm not saying it doesn't contain rat, just that I don't know about it. And I'm fine with that.
***4.3? What does that MEAN? 4.3 out of what? 10? 1000? 4.3 globules of cholesterol per pint of blood? 4.3 homicidal episodes if I ever see that stupid fucking advert ever again? 4.3 advertising executives and Quangoists I'll set on fire if they don't stop fucking preaching?