‘When I look at a cow I just want to eat it.’
‘When I look at a cow I see a cow,’ John says looking at me weirdly.
‘But when I look at a vegetable patch I just see dirt. I think this means I am a carnivore. Nature made me this way. I can’t fight nature.’
The conversation has come about because of the Stern Report and Macca (Paul McCartney not Makka Pakka) and their combined vegetarian effort to save the world. In theory I agree. In theory I agree that they should make cows that don’t fart. They can splice genes and clone animals yet they can’t make a cow that doesn’t fart. Why not? I think they’re not trying hard enough.
‘It’s not just the farting,’ John says.
Yeah, whatever, I think. Actually I think I say that out loud.
‘What will we do in India? We shouldn’t eat meat there.’
Richard says we’ll see the butchers’ shops and not want to eat meat anyway. They will have to be pretty fly blown those carcasses, I think, something worse than a scene from Saw VI, to make me not want to eat them. Rich is a vegetarian – the meat counter at Waitrose is repellent to him, so our standards are different.
Also in India a lot of people are Hindu and cows are holy and you can’t eat them, can’t even look at them and think tasty thoughts (urgh not that kind you dirty person). I am quite distressed by all this – not least because this will mean the cessation of steak night Wednesdays.
Due to a miscommunication between John and myself, tonight we had to forgo steak and make do with a vegetable stir fry. I’m now so hungry I could eat my own arm. But John’s arm is tastier. I actually just took a bite out of it. See I am a carnivore.
‘We’ll have to give up meat,’ I say already mourning its loss. ‘We’ll have to be vegetarian – at least until we get to Australia.’
‘But we should try new things when we’re away – I’m going to do yoga. I’ve never done it before’
‘Yeah, been there, done that. I’m going to do Buddhism.’
Even I laugh.