Black pudding saved my life, says butcher stuck in freezer
A BUTCHER who got stuck in a freezer owes his life to black pudding after he used a block of the blood sausage “like a battering ram” to free himself.
Chris Mccabe, 70, said he thought he was going to die when he became locked inside his own walk-in freezer, which stores meat at temperatures of -4F (-20C). With time running out, he grabbed the only tool he could find.
He battered the lock with the frozen stick of black pudding, and it eventually gave way, allowing Mr Mccabe to walk free. The father-of-four, from Totnes, Devon, said: “Black pudding saved my life, without a doubt. No one could hear me banging because it is outside, round the back of the shop.
“The black pudding was the best thing to hit the button with because it was the right shape.
“I used it like the police use battering rams to break door locks in, that’s what I did with the black pudding. It was solid, pointed and I could get plenty of weight behind it. I’m lucky really – we sell about two or three each week and that was the last one in there.”
Mr Mccabe said wind blew the door shut behind him and he discovered the inner door release button had frozen solid. He looked around for something to save him, but could not find anything to de-ice the emergency release: the lamb was too big and the beef did not afford enough grip. Mr Mccabe said he had all but given up hope when he spotted the last black pudding.
The pudding, supplied by HM Sheridan of Ballater, a royal butcher, was the perfect size, weight and diameter, he said. Mr Mccabe added that although he was only stuck for a few minutes, he believes he would have died within half an hour.
Some of us have wondered what we would do if we were locked inside a cold-storage unit. It’s the sort of speculation that appealed to Edgar Allan Poe. For Chris Mccabe, a butcher from Totnes, the question acquired some urgency when, as we report today, he found himself locked among frozen carcases at -20C. Lambs, even at that temperature, are little assistance in such a plight, he found. So it was the greatest good fortune that there was a hefty black pudding still left in stock. Using it as a battering-ram, like one of those policemen undertaking a dawn raid on television, Mr Mccabe thumped at the jammed release catch until it gave way and, like Florestan freed by Leonore, he saw daylight again. The difference from the plot of Fidelio, though, is that Mr Mccabe will be able to eat his deliverer for breakfast.