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Six ways poncey London shops justify charging £15 for a sandwich

SANDWICH inflation has hit the capital, with independent shops and affluent customers each listing extremely valid mitigating factors as to why that’s okay: 

It’s American

To a certain credulous influencer mindset, the very fact the sandwich claims US origins makes it aspirational. The differences here are that it’s called a sub, is oval rather than demurely triangular, and reaches a level of artery-blocking health risk no British sandwich could every hope to. £15 is a bargain when you consider it could kill.

It’s horribly overloaded

Unlike when hiring builders, here stable, solid construction is cheap. It’s the messily overstuffed, mid-collapse and impossible to functionally consume sandwich that costs a premium. As the sides ooze out with every bite, as you litter toppings around you, as your hands are submerged in saucy slop you’ll delight in the wasteful, nasty luxury.

It’s artisanal

The sourdough starter was painfully reared by hand and is called Clive. The brazen bap carries a filthy price tag because it’s as original and irreplaceable as a Picasso, created by a chef whose life has been dedicated to creating sandwiches so marvellous they leave their consumers forever changed, and perhaps immortal. Which isn’t bad for the price.

It’s Instagrammable

This aesthetic bun comes in pretty wrapping paper sliced down the middle so you can easily reveal its insides, in case you need to check that your cheese is actually in there. With layers of filling that look like they’ve been delicately stacked by Marie Kondo herself, this is a delight to the lens and promises you 10,000 followers per bite.

It’s ethical

When a product can’t conceivably offer more flavour, volume, or exclusivity it’s time to turn up the spin. Want free-range highly-enriched beef? Kale handpicked by a niche order of nuns high in exotic yet also local mountains? Chickpeas from heritage breed chickens? This meal validates all your moral standpoints and confirms you were right all along.

The Strait of Hormuz

The financial storm caused by war and political idiocy are plaguing every restaurant, cafe, and weird pop-up snack cart that visits your office. The sandwich, at the very socioeconomic nexus of contemporary life, is no exception. What else are you going to do, eat the cold pasta salad you brought from home? Pay up.

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A gorilla's head ashtray and other souvenirs from my wonderful career, by Sir David Attenborough

I CANNOT thank the British public enough for their interest in my 100th birthday. To repay them, I shall host a special show about the incredible species I turned into souvenirs: 

A red panda hot water bottle cover

For one of my earliest documentaries for the BBC, back in 1954, I was lucky enough to film a reclusive red panda which I shot and had turned into a novelty bedroom accessory. They’re one of the world’s most endangered species, so it really was a most fortuitous find.

A gorilla’s head ashtray

My time with mountain gorillas is perhaps the most famous moment of my career. As ever, I had my trusty hunting knife with me, so after befriending an adult male I decapitated the majestic beast. Now ‘Smokey’, as I christened him, takes pride of place in the spare room, reminding me of our noble great ape ancestors as I flick fag ash into his mouth.

An emperor penguin biscuit jar

Who can forget the landmark series Frozen Planet? Not me, thanks to this wonderful biscuit jar in the kitchen, whose head is removed to access the biscuits most wittily. I actually had around 30 of these made for family and friends. The beak opens bottles.

An elephant’s foot salad bowl

An elephant’s foot umbrella stand was too reminiscent of Britain’s morally questionable colonial past, so when I filmed Indian elephants in 1975 I opted to turn one into a dignified salad bowl. It took me forever to get the foot off with a hacksaw and by God the fuss it made, but worth it.

A stegosaurus urinal

While making Prehistoric Planet, we visited a dinosaur museum in Nevada and I cheekily stole a stegosaurus skull. A few alterations by a local plumber later and it became a urinal in my Richmond home. I never cease to be awestruck by the thought that I am pissing back millions of years into the Jurassic period.

A lion’s head door knocker

Bagging a Kenyan lion in 1993 with an AK-47 borrowed from a poacher was one of the high points of my career. Back in England its head became an oversized door knocker far more impressive than any wrought iron one. The king of the jungle may be dead, but he lives on as king of my envious neighbours.

A blue whale bouncy castle

At 25 metres long, this leviathan of the oceans makes an awe-inspiring garden inflatable. I’m a little too old for such antics, but when I see my great-grandchildren joyfully bouncing on its head I take pride in knowing I’ve shared my love of nature with future generations.

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