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If you ask me...There’s life after horse meat. It’s my recipe for dust stew...

If you are thinking, “I’m at work all day and don’t have time for this”, you may need to ask yourself, "Do I deserve to eat nice food?"

If you ask me, in the light of the horse-meat scandal, and the endless media advice that has been proffered along the lines that everyone can eat fresh food affordably so long as some thought and effort is put into it, I would like to offer my own recipes which, I think, will enlighten anyone who thinks their budget can only stretch to cheap burgers or value bolognese or Asda’s Chilli Con Carne soup, one of those supermarket dishes that combines a number of favourite meals into one, and will reach its apotheosis, I’m predicting, when everyone’s freezer contains at least one Lidl roast trifle pizza with all the trimmings and everyone’s larder has at least one box of Aldi Porridge (Chicken tikka masala flavour).

Anyway, here are the recipes:

Dust Stew: Get some dust and stew it on a low heat for four hours along with the sole of an old trainer, for flavour. If, after this period, the dust is still a little tough, stew for another three hours, or until it is tender. Once tender, season according to taste, remove sole of old trainer, and serve. (If you are thinking, “I’m at work all day and don’t have time for this”, or, “Why should I have to eat such disgusting stuff?”, you may need to ask yourself: am I actually ready to make meals from scratch rather than buy cheap crap from the supermarket? If not, you may wish to further ask yourself: “Have I the right to any pleasures, or should I be made to sit and stare at a wall for the rest of my days?”)

Horse Pommel Pie: You can catch a horse pommel by breaking into any school gym in the middle of the night. Once you have carried it home, saw into steak-sized chunks, fry in a tablespoon of vegetable oil, then layer between pasta sheets or, if you can’t run to those, sheets of kitchen roll. Bake in the oven until kitchen roll is lovely and golden round the edges and serve with a “You won’t be able to tell this from a Findus lasagne!”, which you won’t, plus you’ll know exactly where this particular horse is from, and exactly what sort of life it has led.

Pencil Sharpenings on Toast: Scatter sharpenings on toast and know you have sent the children off to school with a home-cooked meal inside them, and one that has required both thought and effort.

Alternatively, I suppose, one could just stop offering patronising recipes and, instead, accept that horse meat isn’t about what poor people eat, but is about what rich supermarkets sell. Shame, though, as I’ve an excellent recipe for dead battery casserole, but I guess I’ll just have to save it for next time.