McDonalds is delicious. This is a fact. You don’t get to a million restaurants worldwide by tasting like bumhole. Anyone that tries to tell you they don’t eat Mackers because they don’t like the taste must be regarded with utter contempt and dismissed immediately as massive weapons. (These are the same people that will tell you that Point Break “lacks quality acting or a believable plot” or will say when ordering Dominos 2 for 1, “but all I want is a medium.” People that, I think you’ll agree, one simply does not want to be around.) What they really mean is that they are more worried about their health than a delicious burger and to me that is beyond the pale. So what if eating McDonalds food results in a little light kidney failure, a mild heart attack or perhaps even a dose of erectile dysfunction, is it not worth it for the supreme pleasure a McDonalds burger gives? Give me a Quarter Pounder over a fully erect penis any day.
We must now move onto the artisanal production method that goes into each and every one of their burgers. The beef patty’s are individually hand crafted by an Austrian artist named Hans Pubeman. They are then slow grilled over the open flame of burning cedar wood until the meat has become that familiar colour, which seems to flirt somewhere between marbled rosewood and a turd. Added to this bronzed meat, that no doubt reminds more than a few unfortunate Thai employees of Gary Glitters penis, is added the cheese, lettuce, pickle and the trademark ‘special sauce.’ I apologise for putting ‘Gary Glitter’ ‘penis’ and ‘special sauce’ in the same sentence but lets not forget that Gary put all these things in a far more unsavory place than a grammatically questionable sentence.
All of these extraordinary ingredients come together in a perfect marriage of aesthetic and taste to produce the true culinary pinnacle that is a McDonalds burger. The taste of this remarkable achievement can only be described as pure Nirvana. I am told from a reliable source (Dave Grohl) that Kurt Cobain actually got the inspiration for his album from a Big Mac. And I think you will all remember that anthem to youth ‘Smells like a Mackers Burp’ as fondly as I do. He did however go on to have an unfortunate incident with a firearm, although it should be made clear that this was only because Courtney Love nicked his gherkin; to be honest I know how he feels. In fact Morgan Spunklock (of ‘Super Size Me’ fame) ought to make another completely pointless documentary about how the loss of a gherkin might cause someone to top themselves, he could call it ‘Sawn-off shotgun Me (in the face).’ Now that’s a Palm d’Or if ever there was one.
Much as it pains me to say it there is another side to those gleaming, golden arches that give so much hope to so many. Whichever way you look at it McDonalds has been responsible for the greatest bovinian genocide in history (Next week: ‘Botanical Holocaust’, where yellow tipped daffodils exterminate black, brown and red tulips for having too much money and a massive stamen). 10 million cows a day are slain in over 500,000 remorseless abattoirs, a never ending chain of gurning cows that lined up end to end would stretch to the Moon and back 8 times. I went to visit one such abattoir where the manager, a balding man with a haunted look in his eyes simply whispered, ‘The Horror. The Horror.’ Yes, that is a literary reference, what of it? I did it for A-level.
Perhaps the most symbolic element of the Mackers brand is the eponymous man behind the curtain, not a wizard but a clown, Ronald McDonald himself. Ronald is a curious man; one might wish to use the old cliche ‘a flawed genius.’ He is the mastermind behind arguably the biggest brand on the planet, worth upwards of $100 billion and father to the Americanization of the world. And yet there is something not quite right, something deeply unsettling. Ronald must be pushing 90 and still he is present at a worrying amount of children’s parties, dishing out food and sweets on an alarming scale. His smiling visage belies the troubled enigma beneath. Still, I am prepared to look the other way if you are, especially if there is a couple of free double cheeseburgers in it. (“What’s that Gary?”)
Anyway I hope you enjoyed that total bollocks.
