A Doner Kebab, yesterday...
Just what is it that drives us to consume this ungodly creation, spawned from the scrapings from the abbatoir floor? Why are we compelled to find the nearest kebab shop and utter the immortal words "Large Doner please mate" after a night on the lash?
The answer, of course, is beer. It's beer that fuels our desire for this demonic piece of work. After all, what sort of social deviant purchases one of these when stone cold sober? You are clearly in a dark place if you fancy a kebab without alcohol streaming heavily through your system.
I have to confess that I myself have been a 'heavy user' of the Doner Kebab in the past, I simply could not leave them alone after a few sherbets. "Yeah, all the salad mate, and loads of chilli sauce". Is there any help out there for people like us? Any helplines, any counselling on offer? No. We are left completely at the mercy of the Kebab pushers.
Of course we can fool ourselves. We can tell ourselves that what we are getting is tomatoes, cucmber, lettuce, onions, and weird cabbagey bits in some nice healthy pitta bread. We are fulfilling our '5-a-day' requirements, with a litle bit of meat thrown in for good measure. It's self delusion of the highest order.
What we are actually subscribing to is dirty, filthy, unpleasant degradation. I'm making my stand. My will power may well be put to the test at about eleven o'clock tonight, but I intend to stand firm...
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