What I don’t get is…
Billy Bear Ham.
Or Billy Bear Slicing Sausage as it’s officially known. You’ve all had it, and if not, go out and buy some, it’s really cheap! But as you’re tucking in to your reformed turkey and pork fat, think about these ethical quandaries; is it morally right to tell bare-faced (couldn’t resist) lies to children in order to get them eating a product made primarily of off cuts of different animals, and also, the more burning issue of; why the fuck am I eating a bear’s face?
You may be thinking, “What? How does serving Billy Bear, my most beloved of childhood sandwich fillers, constitute as telling lies to children?” Well I’ll tell you. By reforming that hydrogenated conglomerate of all the worst parts of animals into a smiling cartoon bear’s face; you are deceiving children into happily chowing down on the contents of an abattoir bin which in its natural form would haunt their dreams and turn any trips to farms into a harrowing affair for years to come.
What’s also strange is that children are ready and willing to eat this smiling hybrid of nastiness. I know it obviously relates psychologically to enjoyment, most likely TV programmes like Winnie the Pooh, and Yogi Bear which the youngsters recognise and like. But do they really like them that much that they want to consume slices of their faces? I mean, I’m a big fan of Planet Earth and nature programmes but fashioning a joint of beef into a replica of David Attenborough’s adventure-ravaged face might be a step too far for me.
My last quandary surrounding this under-nourishing sandwich filler is; why a bear? It’s made primarily of pork so surely a cartoon pig would be the logical choice of template for the manufacturers. Maybe it was deemed too close to home for children to deal with, conjuring up disturbing images of a pig being forced head first into a ham slicer. Or maybe they’d already decided they wanted to call it Billy and the lack of alliteration in Billy Pig just didn’t have the same fortitude as its mammalian counterpart.
All I hope is that when the time comes for me to have children, this waterlogged mish-mash of animal pick ‘n’ mix is still readily available from all major supermarkets. I can’t wait to see the sheer delight on their faces as they tuck in to the fraudulent, smiling ham substitute and then, as the years progress, their puzzlement as they begin again the questioning that brought us all here in the first place; why the fuck am I eating a bear’s face?