The fight against Cheese Fascism continues.
On Sunday evening, it got to that point where I decided it was too late for me to cook anything for tea (it was only about 7 o’clock – but it was a Sunday). However, I couldn’t decide what kind of delicious fast food I wanted to gorge on. I set off in the car with no clear destination in mind, and being in a particularly indecisive mood, I found myself at the chippy by default.
I decided that, for a change, I’d have a burger and chips. Having this ‘meal’ from the chippy holds the following advantages over your normal burger joint, namely: a nicer burger that you can see them cook, you get chippy chips (nicer and larger quantity than ‘fries’), and it’s generally cheaper. There is however one downside, and it’s a doozie…….Cheese.
Chip shops insist on putting cheese on every burger you buy, regardless of whether you’ve asked for it, or even if you have specifically asked not to have it. This seems the case for every chippy I’ve ever been too, as if the National Convention of Chip-Shop Fryers have decreed that it should be so.
This annoys me so much that I almost decided to get something else, but when the guy asked me for my order, I panicked and ordered a burger. The conversation went like this:
Chip Shop Man: What would you like?
ME: Quarter-pounder and chips please.
CSM: Would you like everything on your cheeseburger?
ME: I don’t want cheese.
CSM: Oh, you want a beef burger?
ME: Yes please.
Well, I felt somewhat aggrieved that the ‘cheese conversation’ had taken place, but this was off-set by the gratification that the ‘cheese phenomenon’ wasn’t imaginary. I was also pleased that we had had such a definite conversation, surely I was ‘cheese safe’ now. To put my mind further at ease, he wrote it on a slip of paper – 1 x BB 1 x C – and stuck it next to the griddle.
All was well. I spotted one of the girls working in the chippy put some cheese on some other burgers but I had surreptiously sidled up to the counter and checked mine was safe. It was. I started to relax a little, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw CSM brandishing a synthetic slice of cheesey hell. Before I could react, he was off out the back of the shop. I checked – my burger had indeed been infected. In a state of girly panic, I summoned one of the other employees: ‘Miss!! Miss!! The bad man has contaminated my precious burger. Please make it stop. Please!!’ OK, these weren’t my exact words, but they might as well have been. Luckily, the helpful assistant retrieved the offending article before any real damage had been done (melting!). I was literally a shell of a man as I left the establishment with my lovely fried food, and even though no taste remained, that solitary slice had tainted my meal.
Why does this continue to happen in a modern democratic society? Haven’t our scandal-ridden MPs done enough damage, without letting people run amok with cheese? Don’t they realise that not everyone likes putrid congealed milk? The whole business leaves me saddened and sickened.
I urge you to join me in fighting this evil, and hope that you will join CACF – Citizens Against Cheese Fascism. Your country needs you.
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