SUNDAY BREAKFAST

This is not bodyparts of an alien lifeform. It is black pudding, a delicacy of the British Isles. When the uninitiated American first encounters an Brit aficionado tucking into a delicious helping of black pudding – on its own or as part of an epic fry-up – their first reaction is usually one of dire shock. “That is that?” “What’s it made of?” “How the fuck can you eat that?” And when the questions are answered the shock often deepens. Sometimes taking the questioner quite close the threshold of catatonia. “It’s made of what???” And this has always struck me as a little odd. I mean, why is it considered okay to eat a nice steak sliced from a cow’s rump, and yet to their eat their intestines, liver, or dried blood as somehow disgusting. I take the attitude that, if one is going to kill and consume the poor creature, one has a karmic responsibility to eat all of it. But many don’t see it that way. The modern carnivore is an oddly detached creature. (And, yet, have you ever wondered what’s in a Big Mac?)

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The secret word is Prey