“Bearded Menaces: Fears of The Fry-Up Extinction”

Good folks, brace yourselves and clutch your bacon butties. A pickle beyond peas is stalking our nation, and we’re not gherkin about your run-of-the-mill Brussels sprouts crisis. Reports have emerged, via Paul at the pub and on the poorly-photoshopped Facebook memes, that our beloved full English breakfast (our daily bread, our manner from the motherland) is under threat. The fiend behind this turmoil? The “bearded menaces,” a term I’m using in strict compliance with my overzealous editor’s guidelines, peppering in what he likes to call “alternative spice.” Let’s dish out the poached details before your third mug of morning builder’s tea.

Halal Sausages And Sharia Eggs

In the darkest corners of the local Wetherspoons, a chilling whisper won’t stop circulating. The beans have it, baked and rinsed, that the iconic bangers in our breakfast are switching sides, threatening to become Halal. There are even murmurs of a Trotskyite plot to replace the divine runny yolk with the much dreaded “Sharia eggs.” I mean, as if Brexit wasn’t disheartening enough – at this rate, we might soon be trading our 11am pint for a glass of lukewarm camel milk.

Nightmarish Visions of Fry-Up Apocalypse

The whispers have been stirring the marmite of public fear, and now many are petrified about our collective culinary future. Gerry, the bloke next door who insists on hanging his Union Jack underwear on the line, nearly choked on his chipolata at the horrifying prospect. ‘What if the bacon turns halal…or…gulp…vegan?!’ he sputtered, wild-eyed and pale, his patriotic breakfast semi-digested but clearly protruding. It’s almost enough to make even the most devoted carnivore consider a cheeky bit of avocado toast – almost.

• Could the black pudding become a spicy Pakistani Nihari?
• Will we have to bid a heartbroken farewell to the fried bread and instead chow down on stuffed Vine Leaves?
• And could Mary Berry, the Queen of Baking herself, be turfed off BBC for a Nigella in a headscarf?

Panic on the High Streets of Britain

Now, Harrods is dealing with an unexpected surge in sales of haggis, presumably from panicked citizens seeking the comfort of Scottish stodge in these trying times. Elsewhere, down in the Surrey, the upper middle class, lacking in real problems to worry about, have turned their fears of aesthetic change into a bourgeois trend. To feel more worldly and inclusive, they have started making their poached eggs in tagines with Sumac and Za’atar. Bless.

Stirring Up The Final Solution

As all this hullabaloo reaches fever pitch, our mover-shakers in Westminster seem to be tight-lipped, making us wonder about a parliamentary conspiracy. Now, I’m not saying there’s a duplicitous scheme underway, only because my libel lawyer is flashing his business card eagerly. But it does make a person wonder, doesn’t it? Or, if you are like Paul from the pub, does it make a person refill his glass?

So, what’s to be done? Download the breakfast Brexit app (That exists. Paul made it, I think.)? Start trend #SaveOurSausages on Twitter? Bring cricket back into public schools? The solutions are many, and none, strolled upon a philosophical dread that questions our very identity. But, for the love of St. George, do something. Yes, you, sipping your tea and slightly chuckling at this quirky rant. The Fry-up needs us or we might wake up one day to a dietary dystopia where we joule our Jalfrezis. And we simply cannot have that happen.

Hungry for Change? Act Now.

It’s time to take action, people. Sign that online petition against Halal Fry-ups, pace yourselves before the brown sauce becomes chilli sauce, and brace for battle if Mary Berry does get ousted. Or, heaven forbid, prepare for a possible haggis shortage. Quite simply, remember your duty, your destiny, and your dinner. To cap it off, raise your mugs high, toast your crumpets higher and rally round the flag. It’s time to take tea for team Britain. No one should dare mess with our breakfast!