Carnivorous Cuisine

Mum got me to eat A MAN this week. Yep. An actual piece of a fella. I say fella, it could have been a woman - in fact, for fear of offending anyone, we'll just say I ate part of a person.
Now, I'm all for new experiences and giving things a go, yet even for an open minded, worldly wise, see-it-done-it broad such as myself, this request was a bit of a bolt from the blue.
My present diet prides itself on encompassing a wide variety of tried and tested, wholly nutritious and scarily bland fare with which no one could wonder or argue. Sure, it's no rollercoaster for the tastebuds, and it certainly ain't gonna worry Heston Blumenthal, but nourishment-wise it ticks the boxes no bother.

So to think that one day, Mum can just seat me at the table and feel compelled to introduce the concept of cannibalism - completely unprecedented. But that's exactly what the lunatic did.

Not wanting to disappoint her gleeful little face, I obliged.
Where do you start when consuming a body? With a glint in her eye I had never noticed before, Mum sadistically drove the head towards my mouth. I bit down hard, waiting for the little fella to struggle against me. In the way that she heats my meals and prepares my bottles, seemingly Mum had rendered this delicacy unconscious in anticipation of my consumption. I have to say its docile state did take the edge off what could have been a truly harrowing experience.


I picked my way through the carcass, and I'll be honest - yes, while it lasted, it was a surprisingly tasty experience. Like eating corned beef - something you know is just downright wrong, but is nevertheless irrefutably scrumptious. I tore that little chap limb from limb; all the while Mum egging me on and cackling shamelessly.

But within a few short hours, neither of us was laughing. Our karmic payback had descended.

After nurturing a raging temperature for most of the evening, I suddenly embarked upon a course of diarrhoea which resulted in my bum being sick no less than five times. Then I vomited - and was confronted with the root of my ills - the eyes, toes, fingers and nose of the person I had devoured. Mum had the brass neck to blame this violent reaction on my "teething", while never mentioning the barbaric acts that had taken place inside my digestive tract earlier that day.
As the evening wore on, so averse was my reaction to such savage sustenance, she felt the need to take me to the doctors, spouting the part line about "new teeth" and "a bit of a germ", while not a once allowing cannibalism's good name to be dragged through the mud.

The moral of the story is this.
NEVER eat people. Especially gingerbread ones.
Them currants they have for eyes go right through you.