Right! What’s that ancient Maccabees saying, about “ If you’ve no kind words to say, you should shut the f*** up!”… well bollocks to that! Something has got to be done about this abomination!

On a recent shopping trip to my North Shields branch, of a well known high street and community destroying megamarket, that rhymes with Horrisons. I was rummaging around the chilled cabinets for ham. You know the stuff. Thin pink, salty, slices of once-pig, square or round, breaded or honey roast, discount wafer thin, or decadently thick cut. Corner stone of the British sandwich. Goes with absolutely everything, cheese, mustard, salad and er… well… goes with cheese, mustard and salad and that’s quite a lot. Anyway. I’d picked up a pack of wafer thin (minimum 20 slices) and was on my way to the glorious check out experience that, I just love so much;

“Yes, I want a bag. No, I don’t need help with my packing, look… I’ve only got four items. No, I’ve not got a saver card. No, I don’t want one, No, I don’t collect goldfish for schools vouchers. Yes, I think it’s stopped raining. Yes actually!! I am thinking of buying a gun and going on a kill crazy rampage.”

Anyway… you’re familiar with the scenario. For most of us it’s a weekly hell that we somehow endure cos they’ve got cheap booze and the DVD’s are quite reasonable.

Anyway, as I was on my way back to said check out. I was stopped, quite literally, in my tracks by a wall of meat. A whole end-aisle wall of packed ham. Big packets too, 300grams and… half price, at only a quid a packet. It was like ham nirvana. Havana even. It did… however say Turkey Ham on the packets. Which did make me wonder. Though it looked like ham. It was pink. Very pink. (I put this down, to the fluorescent store lighting at the time.) And on the front was what looked like a delicious photograph of a ham salad sandwich on thick wholemeal bread, lying in a field of grass. Just to make it look extra fresh and extra delicious. Right. I said to myself. It’s only a pound, I’ll give that a go, how bad can it be. I’m not sure how you make ham from turkey, but, I like ham and I like turkey, ergo I’ll probably love Turkey Ham.

Oh how f****** wrong was I. The first thing you notice about Mr Mathews Turkey Ham is the colour…it’s actually suspiciously pink for a turkey. Not ham pink either. More highlighter pen pink. But this, curiosity is very quickly forgotten once you break the seal and open the friggin packet. Jesus the smell. Its not often you get assaulted by food, but this is one of those rare occasions. It’s like that wild garlic smell you get in the woods, and it just keeps coming and coming. Then there’s the really difficult bit. You’ve got to try and fight through this wall of stench, to pick up one of these things and put it in your mouth. Ah man it’s rancid… it’s so rancid I actually urge you to buy some. Just so you can taste how rancid it actually is. The wall of garlic is obviously there to try and mask the hideous taste. No wonder it’s only a pound, no wonder it’s in massive 300gram tubs, stacked to the ceiling. Any sale has got to be a bonus for these clowns. Cos you could not give this stuff away. What sort of f***ed up scientist ever dreamt up this frankenfood.

What’s it got to do with The Northern Line? It’s a bloody health warning mate! Consider it a public service I’m doing here. It should never have been allowed to leave those Norfolk turkey factories in the first place, let alone sully our shelves. Actually I wonder if they sell the rotten stuff in Norfolk, I can’t imagine it actually. You wouldn’t shit on your own doorstep would you? It’s probably just for export to The North, where the daft bastards, who don’t know any better, will eat anything if it’s cheap enough.

You have been warned! I’m off to fumigate my fridge.

By Dave on October 21, 2011