Was that a pig I just heard squealing?
I LOVE meat.
In fact, I might love it a little too much.
There’s more chance of me dancing the lead role in Swan Lake with the Australian Ballet than there is of me turning vegetarian.
If God had meant us to be vegetarians, he wouldn’t have made animals out of meat, would he?
Having said that, I will admit I was a bit surprised when I heard about that butcher who was in trouble for naming his shop The Squealing Pig. Did you see that? He copped it from the animal rights people and vegans.
I felt sorry for the bloke but even I, the self-professed King of Meat Eaters, felt a bit squeamish about his choice of business name.
He reckons it reflects the noise pigs make when they’re in the paddock.
Personally, I can’t escape the mental image of a pig’s final seconds before he goes to the great pigsty in the sky.
It’s not something I like to think about when I’m chowing down on a big chunk of pig, feeling the piggy juices running down my chin and savouring the gentle crunch of baked piggy skin between my teeth.
Give me a second, I feel a bit light-headed.
Okay, I’m better now. The problem as I see it is, what would happen if every shop that sold animal products went down the “truth in advertising” path?
After you’d been to The Squealing Pig to grab a chunk of dead porker, you could nip over to the supermarket and get a dozen unfertilised chicken foetuses. On your way out, you’d be able to get a litre of baby cow food before you head home to throw a slice of cow’s flesh on the barbie.
Personally, I like to wash my hunk of cow flesh down with a glass of fermented grape juice.
Which brings me to the day’s good news – cheap wine is good. Really, really good apparently.
As someone who looks directly toward the bottom shelf when he walks into the bottle shop, I have long been aware of the quality of wines available for $5 a bottle. And when they’re on special, I can stay relatively unsober for $10 a week. (Okay, unsober is not really a word but I like to use fancy made-up words to maintain an aura of class).
Don’t get me wrong, I have helped a mate polish off a $1000 bottle of red but I can’t say it was 200 times better than my regular drop.
My faith in cheap wine was justified the other day when a red wine sold by Coles was honoured at an international competition.
The $6 cabernet sauvignon (“cab sav” to you and moi) went head-to-head with some of the world’s top labels and came out on top, with a “double gold” medal.
Which makes it what I like to call “a bloody good drop of cheap plonk”.
So there you go. You don’t always need money to buy class. Although it helps when a bloke’s looking for a decent drop of plonk to go with his chunk of chook. Or his chunk of pig. Did I just hear a pig squealing?