Given my usual predilection for light-hearted commentaries on subjects of dizzying insignificance, many readers may be surprised by the next few paragraphs. For the first time since the creation of "In Lamb We Trust" I, the Lamb in whom you trust, am going to deposit some crumbs of emotional contemplation upon the neatly ironed tablecloth of your collective consciousness. I know, I know. It's tacky and unbecoming and cliche, but I think that what will be said must be said.
I urge you to brace yourselves, dear readers. The sheer concentration of feeling in these words would surely be enough to take out the most robust emotional rhinoceros.
So.
What is the deal with Gregg's?
Many are the occasions on which I have ventured into their brightly lit bakeries, seeking refuge from not only the bitter cold of the Edinburgh winter but also from my own hunger. My insides practically scream for the embrace of a warm steak bake or a sausage roll. When they receive, instead of said embrace, the lukewarm grope of a three-hour-old pastry they are understandably upset. My stammered attempts at compromise go oft' unheeded!
"Give me ten minutes and I'll go back to the flat and bung it in the microwave for a while! It'll be fine!"
I can feel them forming their blasted gastric alliance in opposition to what they perceive as my culinary tyranny. My heretical schemes fall on deaf ears and I have no choice but to let my ninety pence meal slide like a gravy-coated leech down my throat. To resist would be to invite an internal mutiny!
When will Gregg's realise the pain and suffering they inflict upon our world, blighted by disease, poverty and corruption as it already is. Why not expend the meagre sum necessary to keep their food warm? Why further intensify our feelings of helplessness? Why deny us one simple pleasure amidst the furious tempest of domestic misery?
I fall 'pon my bloodied knees and beseech you, oh mighty Gods!
Once more my words are denied a sympathetic audience... Yet I maintain my hope. I have a dream, a dream that one day I will order a ham and cheese pasty and it will seer the skin from the roof of my mouth with its purifying heat! I fear though, that this dream's fulfillment will be a long and arduous struggle against economic forces outwith the simple confines of my understanding...
Keep fighting the good fight readers!
Jamie
I urge you to brace yourselves, dear readers. The sheer concentration of feeling in these words would surely be enough to take out the most robust emotional rhinoceros.
So.
What is the deal with Gregg's?
Many are the occasions on which I have ventured into their brightly lit bakeries, seeking refuge from not only the bitter cold of the Edinburgh winter but also from my own hunger. My insides practically scream for the embrace of a warm steak bake or a sausage roll. When they receive, instead of said embrace, the lukewarm grope of a three-hour-old pastry they are understandably upset. My stammered attempts at compromise go oft' unheeded!
"Give me ten minutes and I'll go back to the flat and bung it in the microwave for a while! It'll be fine!"
I can feel them forming their blasted gastric alliance in opposition to what they perceive as my culinary tyranny. My heretical schemes fall on deaf ears and I have no choice but to let my ninety pence meal slide like a gravy-coated leech down my throat. To resist would be to invite an internal mutiny!
When will Gregg's realise the pain and suffering they inflict upon our world, blighted by disease, poverty and corruption as it already is. Why not expend the meagre sum necessary to keep their food warm? Why further intensify our feelings of helplessness? Why deny us one simple pleasure amidst the furious tempest of domestic misery?
I fall 'pon my bloodied knees and beseech you, oh mighty Gods!
Once more my words are denied a sympathetic audience... Yet I maintain my hope. I have a dream, a dream that one day I will order a ham and cheese pasty and it will seer the skin from the roof of my mouth with its purifying heat! I fear though, that this dream's fulfillment will be a long and arduous struggle against economic forces outwith the simple confines of my understanding...
Keep fighting the good fight readers!
Jamie
1 comment:
I got a hot sausage roll from Greggs. It was so hot I dropped it, and a tramp fought to the death with a seagull for the remains.
It was well worth 56p.
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