And this little piggy had roast beef ... but I'm still going for the ham

14 December 2008

Extract from
'The Bacon Diaries'

Monday: 1pm. I am in my local, reading the menu. Despite a weekend of Christmas parties I still feel festive. I order the stuffed turkey.
A far from paltry pile of poultry arrives. I am drooling as I lift a flap of meat with my fork ... but wait, there's something miss- ing. Where's the ham?
I look at the menu again. There's '_ and cabbage', 'toasted _ and cheese', '_ and mash' and 'baked honeyglazed _'.
Switching my brain on I remember: pork is off. I push my plate away and contemplate Christmas – no, LIFE – without lovely pork. It's horrible. I realise that I am rocking back and forth, moaning quietly, the early stages of cold turkey. Soon, I notice the sound of manic crunching coming from the gloomier recesses of the pub. It is then that I make a startling discovery, which I'll tell you about later.
Tuesday: 11am. Air of gloom as lay-offs increase. Country waits for safety verdict from EU. A German friend of mine, Jason, is getting calls begging him not to eat Irish pork. The schweinhund! My own swine hunt continues as I beg for a rasher sandwich.
2pm. Wondering if Cowen has done the right thing by doing a Schwarzenegger (Total Recall). Is he the man to save our bacon now our goose is cooked? Medi- cal cards, Lisbon and now this?
3pm. I contemplate the thorough Irishness of the pig. No Victorian Punch cartoon of a Paddy was complete without a pig in his parlour.
Pigs feature in our mythology, bedtime stories and rhymes: from 'Mac do Tho's Pig' to the 'Three Little Piggies' to 'This Little Piggy Went to Market'. Actually, doesn't the last line of that go: "and this little piggy had roast beef."? Change that to: "this little piggy had rendered animal waste tainted by dioxin-rich fuel fumes.…"
The pig has given us phrases for when we're celebrating: "we're on the pig's back." Cocking up: "you made a pig's ear of that." Earning: "bringing home the bacon." In trouble: "Sketch! It's the Pigs!!"
I resolve to forego Lidl and wait for Irish ham to return. I will then buy lorryloads of it. I will ask you to do the same.
Wednesday: 4pm. The Danes are saying nasty things about our pork. It's obvious they just want payback for Clontarf. It's nothing to do with selling their products here.
While they're mouthing off, the EU says our rashers are safe. SAFE?? Haven't they seen the gick that comes off them when they're frying? You're more likely to die of a coronary eating one than dioxin poisoning. It's 'Rasher Roulette' – but we love it.
5pm. I decide to appeal to any butcher reading this to make me a quiet offer on a dioxin ham. Part of the deal is you have to cook it for me. I'm serious. Email me.
Thursday: 9.30am. See some workmen forlornly eating ciabatta rolls filled with falafal and rocket leaves. Even their 'builder's crack' isn't smiling. They don't know Superquinn is back selling Irish pork.
10.45am. Again wondering if the government overreacted. I conclude that, in fairness, it may be the first thing that Cowen's lot has got right. It seems a case of "damned if you do, etc."
11.30pm. Dream of Cowen posing for the cameras stuffing his face with bacon to show the world everything is okay. He looks like a man who likes his rashers. Maybe by the time this is printed he will have done so.
Friday: 8am. Wake up worried that I'm having dreams about Brian Cowen.Then I remember to explain Monday's crunching sound.
As I was suffering pork withdrawals, the bar was doing a brisk trade on piggy methadone – aka, Bacon Fries. I ordered three packs and wondered how they would go with sprouts. Then I read the ingredients. I was startled. Did you know that Bacon Fries have zero pork in them?
Despite looking the part, they are a sham. Then, when it comes to the crunch, they disintegrate.
And no, Mr Cowen, we're not drawing any comparisons ... this time.