Who isn’t a sausage lover? Even those muted vegetarian types have Linda McCartney sausages. How did they get so much sausage from one woman? No-one knows. Now, it’s tempting for serious meat munchers to pour scorn on the vegetarian sausage, and indeed on the vegetarian herself, but take a minute to think about it. The more vegetarians there are, the more meat there is left over for everyone else. Scarcity of decent meat is a big problem.
Most people are now aware that there are just too many people on the planet, and its getting worse with people fornicating all over the place and begatting left, right and centre. There’s not enough sausage to go around. There are a few ways of tackling the impending global sausage crisis. The first, harping back to ancient times, is to encourage major religions that sausages are the devil’s work. More recently, whole swaths of society have been convinced that sausages are in some way unhealthy by-products of mechanically reclaimed carcass offal, and likely to result in heart attacks, clogged arteries and extensive cross-dressing in bad shoes.
A second approach to avoiding the looming crisis is to simply reduce the number of mouths competing for sausage. A large number of agencies are trying to cull the people population. Out-and-out war is one of the blatant culling techniques yet hardly the most successful in terms of numbers. More effective population control techniques involve spreading allegedly incurable diseases in the developing world, the destruction of family values in the west and the consequent auto-euthanasia of ageing senior family members faced with the prospect of life in retirement homes. Less immediate forms of genocide are the widespread government-supported distribution and sale of narcotics to the vulnerable members of society. Ecstacy, which in the UK is subject to minimal state-taxation and is available for less than the price of even quite a nasty cocktail, is reported to be a major factor in dropping fertility rates amongst wide-eyed hyperactive youths.
Not all of these measures are enough though to ensure a long-term sustainable and agreeable sausage-to-person ratio. So revel while you can, before you’re having to queue up for seven hours outside a heavily guarded hot-dog shop, just to watch a celebrity polish off a banger. Make hay while the sun still shines – and fork out 99 pence for 275 grammes of Wall’s Micro Sausages. For your quid, you get just under 73 grammes of pure fat, and some other stuff with scientific names too long for most people to pronounce or remember, which I guess is the point of long scientific names. Within a minute of opening the packet, you can feast on a microwave cooked gristle sack, a steaming, articially-browned offal tube.
Actually, they don’t taste too bad. If you thought McCain’s Micro Chips were actually a nutritious contribution to convenience cuisine, they could be right up your alley.