The Vegan Wars

It’s the middle of January, and the disappointment of Christmas has started to fade into a nostalgia of  Yule memories founded on a handful of bearable holiday moments, as the subconscious shoves the actual reality of the grey seasonal dullness, shit TV and an endless stream of wasted, hungover days to the mental cupboard of forgetfulness.  Trees and decorations have been stashed away, presents have finally been posted for sale on Ebay, the last of the Christmas booze is losing its charm *and the daunting prospect of surviving January and February lingers on the horizon like a large mushroom shape over Hiroshima.  The third flu-cold of the season has hit, and having been forced to enter the Season of Goodwill, people are now looking to start beef over chattin’ shit, as they say down the ends.

A digital skirmish seems to have broken out between those promoting or engaging in Veganuary – which given the ongoing rush towards environmental meltdown we seem to be engaged in seems quite a sensible thing to do – and those who belong to the Anti-Snowflake Uber-Snowflakes whose mission in life is to be offended by people being offended.  Message boards are full of snides about I’m Sick of Vegans Telling Me They’re Vegan I’m Going to Eat a Lamb. Or, in other words, people sharing their dietary preferences while complaining about others who do so.

I’m very familiar with this conversation. I became a vegetarian at sixteen, troubled by the fact that I was eating dead things. It seemed at odds with my Catholic upbringing where I’d been told, in equal measure, that all life was sacred, that God was a loving God who loved all God’s creatures, and don’t be soft son, of course God wants you to kill and eat living beings. After all, Jesus fed kebabs to the disciples. **

I’d given up God long before I’d given up meat. But I’d not given up Catholicism. You can’t. It’d be like trying to give up breathing.  I firmly believe there are three states of being you can never leave: being a Catholic, being Mafiosi and being a Goth.  You might think you’ve left, but you never really do.  Even now, if I visit a Protestant Cathedral, it’s a nice building for the superstitious. If I visit a Catholic Cathedral, it’s still for the superstitious, but it’s a nice church.

What ensued following my rejection of eating corpses were years of ‘Why are you a Vegetarian’? from random strangers, work colleagues and doctors.  It’s not like I wore a badge, it’d just come in conversations like ‘ Why are you eating Quorn’? and ‘Why do you seem morally superior?’.

I’ve always found it a bit fucking bizarre.  Sometimes the conversations were prompted by genuine curiosity, but over eighty-percent of the time it was just a pre-cursor to a dissection of all of my other moral failings. If I said I didn’t like killing and eating things I’d be questioned about wearing leather shoes. I’d point out that the shoes were on my feet and that there was no immediate intention of eating them because I’m not from Stockport and can afford actual food.  If I said it was for personal preference, then I’d be subjected to a lecture about my shortcomings as a nutritional scientist.  Eventually I opted for the excuse that I hate all animals and that there’s no way I’m putting any of those disgusting little bastards in my body.  This generally stumped people, and they’d fuck off confused.  

Which, to be honest, is how I like most of my conversations with casual acquaintances to end. It saves years of unnecessary politeness. 

I’m not a vegetarian anymore. Not for any moral or health reasons, but because I like shellfish, and have no moral compass.  However, I’m pretty sure I’m doing the wrong thing and would like to wish anyone who is vegan, vegetarian or temporary engaged with these the best.  Fuck gammon-eating gammons and their dumbass questions.  I suspect they’re enraged because they know they’re wrong, or because they associate it with being young, smart, hip and sexy. ****Everything they’re not.

And finally -  for the last fucking time - gammons of the world: No -  I do not miss bacon sandwiches. I didn’t even like them when I ate meat. Corpse and ketchup sandwich, anyone? Breakfast should be a Pot Noodle, or nothing at all. 

And on that note, it’s Chicken and Mushroom Pot Goodness time…****

 * Mulled wine with an Advocaat chaser, anyone?

**I might not remember this conversation accurately.

*** I'm assuming this is the case as I was the embodiment of this quartet when I was 16. Or at least, that's how I remember it. There was a lot of booze. 

*** *Chicken and Mushroom flavour . 100% vegetarian, 100% flavour