Alec Sillifant

 

Taking It To The Edge

 

I know there are a lot of fans on full oscillation at the moment and also a lot of buckets of shit being flung around on the world’s stage but sometimes you’ve got to zoom into the bigger picture and focus on the minutiae to get things in perspective. Or take your head from up the metaphoric elephant’s arse and breathe some clean air for at least a gulp or two to put it in another, more picturesque way.

A long time ago a posh bloke came up with an invention that is pretty much at the centre of my existence regarding sustenance. This pillar of the realm demanded (whilst playing cards allegedly and not wishing to desist from the activity) a slab of meat be placed between two pieces of bread and brought to him, thus the sandwich was born; I believe the chap’s name was either the Earl of Pasty or Lord Kebab, I’d have to do some research to confirm his moniker.

A simpler invention (though a spark of pure genius at the same time) cannot be imagined but with some fear that Elon Musk will call me a ‘pedo boy’ (sic) I put it to you that many are not able to construct this most basic of food parcels let alone a mini-sub capable of being as flexible as a human being in flooded confined spaces. The recipe is as follows: two slices of bread, preferably from the same loaf of bread and consecutive in nature, and a filling with or without a grease based sealant applied to the slices of bread before the filling. This is the original recipe but ‘slices’ of bread can be exchanged for a cleaved bun or a baguette sliced from throat to loin into which the filling is inserted. I have no problem with the constituents of the outer casing of the sandwich, it is the filling and its application that irks me.

As is common in the video game industry I am going to provide you with a handy walkthrough of the correct way to engineer a sandwich. Place two slices of bread on a flat surface and (if required for taste or the juice retention of certain fillings) apply butter or margarine* thinly and evenly to every aspect of both upside faces of the slices of bread. Having already gathered together the contents of your sandwich before preparation begins for freshness of bite experience apply said contents across the complete surface of one slice of bread, making sure no area is left unoccupied. Next apply the empty and henceforth the top slice, spread side down, onto the filling and cut the tasty package in twain with the knife you applied the spread with. That’s it, job done, although I will concede various patterns of slicing (half, quartered, triangles, de-crusting, etc.) can be applied as required without violating any specific by-laws of sandwich making.

Why is it then that such a basic act is not capable of being performed perfectly every time by some…let’s go with ‘morons’? And why is it that I have been served sandwiches that have the filling slammed down in a ball in the centre of the bread so it looks like an oversized ravioli envelope or, just as infuriating, a sandwich that has its innards spilling out beyond the confines of the bread and so rendered unpickupable? Or worse still a sandwich whose ratio of bread to filling is so off kilter you might have well merely described a lettuce leaf to a loaf and hope it is infused with the spirit of the greenery like some weird branch of homeopathy. It’s a disgrace, an outrage and one that should not be tolerated by any personage of civilised standing…except the English because we’re too shy or embarrassed to raise such points of failing and cause a fuss.

I have come up with some reasons behind these shameful acts and how you should deal with them, all of which are correct at the time of going to press and non-negotiable. If you are served a substandard sandwich in a social situation by a so-called friend it could be they are too lazy or too stupid to make a sandwich correctly or, and this is more likely, they don’t really like you and are reluctant to waste valuable resources on you. The action to take in this situation is to hurl the offending offering of food at the wall that will take most cleaning (one with many photos of their family hanging on is best) and then assault the provider, verbally or physically, until you run out of breath or enthusiasm.

If you are served a piss-poor representation of a BLT in a café, which proves to be constructed with far more L than B for example, accuse the probably underpaid courier of the sandwich of being a paedophile (I’m not letting go of that one just yet, Mr. Musk) and slap each constituent component of the snack, item by item, into their face while cussing with a different offensive verb or noun for each projectile. Finally, refuse to pay and then go nuts on Trip Advisor when you get within safe confines so the rest of we sandwich aficionados (or sanionados) don’t have to suffer the same fiscal insult at the establishment. The fraudulent activity of trying to con people out of hard earned money for shoddy sandwich structure should be rewarded with a custodial sentence akin to those given out to the bankers who were on the fiddle a decade ago…wait, I may have to rethink that one.

You may think I am being trivial and this in relation to world events is a nonsense but I have it on good authority that World War 1, The Great War or as it should correctly be known The Grate War was started because the Kaiser was served a cheese sandwich by the Czar that was far too lumpy for his delicate Teutonic palate. Google it, see if I’m wrong; this fact will definitely be on Wiki in the next day or two. If Queen Victoria had still been alive she would have made sure her little Wilhelm’s butty was spot on as she is a direct descendant of the Earl of Pasty and sandwich construction is in her blood…plus seven fingers on each hand really help with the spreading technique as well as the obvious banjo plucking benefits granted to all members of the British Royal Family.

It is time we stood up and demanded only the best in sandwiches, nothing less than premier league sarnies; no more limp, damp excuses (I’ve made a few of them in my time on an unrelated matter) for a snack but firm, dry experiences in our mouths bursting with flavours and aromas that would straighten out the wrinkles on Gordon Ramsay’s forehead. If you don’t demand and fight for your sandwich rights, mark my words, we’ll be back in the trenches before too long and no one wants that…except possibly those who can’t make a proper doorstopper because they’re feckin’ eejits and probably still believe in ‘Dulce et decorum est’. Right, that’s it, heads back up the elephant’s arse everyone we’ve got a shit-load of big stuff to sort out next.

 

*My Dad was adamant that margarine was a grease fit only for the use on axles always preferring and actioning the use of butter as his only sandwich/toast sealer. At the time he was out of step with the health message being given that butter would cause heart attacks, strokes and VD (STI for those of you who didn’t catch anything before the 1980s). It seems the dietary community has fallen into step with his way of thinking of late as now the crumpets have been turned and butter is seen as the healthier option. Sadly too late for my Dad who has since gone on to a better place; a place which he is probably modifying whilst still always being bloody right about everything.

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