No sugar

Posted in Old blogger by Twenty Major on February 5th, 2007

“I’ve given up sugar!”, announced Dirty Dave in Ron’s the other night.

This came as a bit of a shock to us as Dave has a notoriously sweet tooth.

“So you’re not taking sugar in your tea?”

“No!”

“And no sugar on your cornflakes?”

“No! Sugar is bad for you. It’s full of calories and it makes your teeth rot. I’ve seen the light.”

“Dave, forgive me if I’m a little doubtful but you have a shelf in your larder with about 16 bags of sugar ‘just in case’ you might run out. I once saw you drink a pint of sugar. You’ve even snorted it off your kitchen table from time to time.”

“Yes, well that’s the old Dave. A thing of the past. An ancient relic. A decrepit being. A venerable phantom. A -”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. So what are you using now? Canderel? Hermesetas? That new lo-cal sweetener Splenda?”

“No. I don’t trust those things. I think, despite the rigorous testing these products undergo, that the long-term effects of them are not known. Sugar, makes you a bit fat and makes your teeth go black. These other artificial sweetener things could make you grow tits or shrink your balls or scramble your brain so that Mike and the Mechanics ‘The living years’ becomes an emotional song that makes you cry instead of a soppy load of MOR bullshit.”

“It’s a legitimate concern but how can you go from using sugar, and remember Dave, you used to put 5 table spoons of sugar in your tea, to not using any kind of sweetener at all.”

“Ahhh, don’t be daft. I’ve not gone totally mental. I use more natural methods now. Instead of sugar in my tea I break in a bar of Cadbury’s dairy milk and if it’s coffee I put in two Snickers.”

“That’s more natural?”

“Of course. And on my breakfast cereal instead of sprinkling sugar I squeeze about a half a pint of Aunt Jemima’s maple syrup and just a touch of ‘child’s tears’, the sweetest tears of all.”

“What?”

“For me it’s tears of disappointment that make the recipe work. I know you can get them in the supermarket or online but I prefer to harvest my own. I simply volunteer to play Santa in Arnotts each Christmas then tell them there’s no such thing as Santa. Or the Tooth Fairy. Or the Easter Bunny. And that Mommy got pregnant when Daddy weed up her bergina. Some people prefer tears of anger but I find them too bitter. I know one bloke, mad as this sounds, who likes the tears of falling down and scraping your knee on a gravel path and getting those little stones in the palm of your hand. Imagine!”

“Uhm…”, I said, before putting down my pint and going home, crying a little on the inside.

With him around it’s better safe than sorry.