Our mob are proposing a law forcing restaurant and pub menus to display calories.
It’s a long time since I had a meal out so this law won’t affect me personally but it still boils my piss.
It’s a law which is pandering to the neurotic obsessives who have been sucked into the hectoring by the Church of Health. How many people actually worry about calories to the point where they worry that a meal in a restaurant is going to upset their precious spreadsheets? I suppose quite a few do as it seems to be a modern trend.
For me, and I suppose to a lot of people, a meal out is a bit of a luxury. It’s a treat. It’s a chance to spoil one’s self. It is something to enjoy. It’s a chance to put cooking and washing up to one side and to let someone else do the work, and as a treat it should be a chance to put all that calorie counting to one side just for one evening.
Sadly however there is no place for enjoyment or happiness in the Church of Health. One must follow guidelines. One must count calories. One must constantly be aware of the Obesity Crisis.
Another aspect of this law is its practicality, or lack of. I do quite a bit of cooking, from scrambled eggs up to a full roast leg of lamb and a range of stews, curries and the like in between. Herself is very fond of my Spaghetti Bolognaise [and so she should be]. The one thing in common right across my vast repertoire is that I never use scales or measuring jugs. While the ingredients for each dish remain the same [but even that varies] the quantities vary according to appearance, taste and smell. I couldn’t write out a recipe for any of my dishes as I don’t know the precise quantities, and if I don’t know the quantity then how the fuck can I or anyone else calculate calories for each dish?
Society has reached a very bad place where happiness and enjoyment have to take second place to the hectoring of the Nanny State. They won’t be content until we have all given up smoking and alcohol and live on a diet of state approved tasteless goo.
What an appallingly dismal outlook.