Now you're just taking the piss.
First you come after my smoking – bullying, nagging and trying to force me to quit. Well you can fuck off on that score as you have just made me more determined than ever to keep going.
Then you start nagging me about my sugar and salt both of which I now use more of in sheer defiance.
Then you moan and whinge about my drink intake, and set your own pathetic levels of what you think constitutes "safe levels". Let me tell you, your levels constitute an aperitif to a nights drinking. I would drink that much before I had even reached the bar.
Then you take a dig at my fry-ups. They are carcinogenic you mewl in that pathetic wheedly tone. I mustn't have more than a rasher a week, you "advise". You can stuff that little bit of "advice" right into a pan full of smoking grease. Since that little nugget came out I have doubled my intake of fries and processed meats.
But now you are treading on really dangerous ground.
You lot must lead a particularly dull monotonous lives. No colour, joy or even a modicum of pleasure in case it somehow may prove at some point in the future not to be "safe". Your lives are dictated by laboratory tests and recommended levels. You daren't enjoy anything just in case it gives you cancer or may lead to an untimely death. The only pleasure you get in life is nagging others about their pleasures. I bet you pulled wings off flies when you were a kid? Either that or you were mercilessly bullied in the playground?
I love my curry. I love it hot and frequent. I first discovered the delights of spice back in the sixties and have been upping my game ever since. I have gone from mild, through spicy to Vindaloo levels that border on radioactive. If I finish and am not sweating like a stuck pick with snots running out my nose then I switch suppliers for my next order.
So fucking what if "there is more than the recommended calories" in an Indian takeaway? It really is none of your fucking business. If I want to have three Vindaloos a day than that is my affair and you can stuff your recommendations right up your collective arse. Anyway, how do you know how many calories I require? You don't know me or anything about me. You don't know my age, weight, height, level of exercise or metabolic rate so how in the blind fuck do you presume to know how much I can eat?
Out of all the substances that you claim are doing me great damage there is only one thing that makes me sick and that is yourselves and your fucking reports that try to suck every vestige of enjoyment out of life. You try to justify your sad little lives by wrapping us all in bubblewrap and keeping us all "safe". Even the name "Safefood" is nauseating and another little moneywaster from the EU.
So fuck off and leave my curry alone. Go and have a pint and a cigarette. Go and eat something that actually tastes nice. Forget your "daily allowances" and "recommended levels" as they really are a steaming load of shite.
That's called "enjoying life".