Apparently, scientists have discovered that Britain’s favourite post-pub-n-club snack can be extremely bad for you.
I’ve often thought that I ought to be a scientist, as I quite often seem to already know the conclusion to many of their own studies, and I don’t get paid the big bucks for doing it. After all, most of their findings are nothing more than common sense.
Of course, most kebab eaters probably weren’t aware that the average doner contains 98% of an adult’s recommended daily salt intake, or that it contains 148% of their daily saturated fat allowance. This isn’t because they aren’t well informed, it’s because they simply don’t care – after all, most kebab eaters are dribbling their favourite snack down their Paul Smith shirts at two o’clock in the morning, steaming drunk after a night on Stella Artois and two-for-one vodka offers from their favourite nightclub.
Naturally, if somebody’s daily diet were made up of a copious supply of doner kebabs, then their doctors might have the right to be slightly concerned about their health. But a few years ago a similar study showed that if you ate a McDonalds’ Big Mac every day then you were going to die. Driving your car very fast every time you go out may lead to a fatal accident and drinking to excess on a daily basis will eventually lead to death too.
Steamy sex with the wrong person could be fatal as well, either through the contraction of some exceptionally exotic disease or because your wife might not be amused and will therefore choose to remove your testicles with some rusty cheese wire.
The rule with kebabs, as with everything else that might not be good for you, is to enjoy in moderation. Or, as the dieticians are fond of saying, as part of a healthy diet plan.
My wife and I once made the mistake of eating a kebab sober, and we haven’t eaten one since. This is because eating a kebab sober means that you take it home, unwrap it from its grease paper and put it on to a plate, where you proceed to consume it via the more upmarket method of using a knife and fork. It was at this point, cutting in to the after-pub delicacy, that Alison discovered a dead beetle sat atop her meat...
Scientists should, therefore, return to their highly-paid jobs of proving that the credit crunch is the sole cause of climate change, and leave doner kebab consumers to mash meat, cucumber, beetles and chilli sauce all wrapped in pita-bread in to their faces every Friday night. At a time when they’re being told they have no money, their mortgages are at risk and they’ll probably be out of work by lunch time tomorrow, it’s a small enjoyment whose worst trait is to make them as attractive to the opposite sex as Jabba the Hutt was to Princess Leia.
And that probably didn’t stop her sleeping with him, either.
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