'We don't need foreign muck like tomatoes': The gammon's guide to seasonal British vegetables

WHO needs tomatoes and peppers when we’ve got delicious British vegetables like swede and cabbage? Here is Roy Hobbs’ guide to avoiding traitorous EU produce.


Why fanny around reducing luscious tomatoes into a tasty ragu when you could chop up a tough old cabbage and boil it into submission? The overly emotional Italians make a bloody fuss about everything, whereas us Brits know you have to like it or lump it. It’s how we single-handedly won the war. Don’t you dare mention America.


Cauliflower looks horrible and smells like farts, which makes it a classic British vegetable. There’s only one way to cook it, which is to simmer it into a tasteless mush like my old mum used to. And you don’t slice it into so-called ‘steaks’ like in veggie restaurants. If you do I’ll call the police as you’ve obviously been injecting LSD with your hippy vegan anarchist mates.


The swede has a suspicious European name, but it grows in abundance down the allotment so I’ll allow it. Can’t really do anything with it apart from mash it and then be disappointed it’s not potato, but this country was built on disappointment and look at us now. We’re miserable and poor, but we’ve escaped the tyranny of Brussels. I’d eat gravel if I thought it would piss off Ursula von der Leyen. And I’d bloody well enjoy it!

Jerusalem artichoke

Even more horribly foreign-sounding, but also the name of that hymn about how brilliant England is, so swings and roundabouts. This vegetable is a tricky little bugger that’s a nightmare to deal with and ultimately more trouble than it’s worth. My wife said it’s a good metaphor for Brexit, which made me sulk in the garage for three days.


Who wants metropolitan elite rubbish like raspberries, peppers or broccoli when you can enjoy the great British spud? Especially deep fried and covered in salt, which is the best way to enjoy any kind of food. It’s called ‘cuisine’, and we invented it, you European plebs.

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Seven questions you really want to ask the man watching porn on the bus

IT’S weird to glance at someone’s phone and realise they’re watching hardcore porn on the number 16 to Leek. Here are the burning questions you will not ask: 

Is this not the wrong environment? 

Porn is meant to be arousing. You’re surrounded by filthy seats, twats hammering the stop button ten times and schoolkids talking shit. Surely the pensioner sitting right in front of you snorting snot into a hankie spoils the mood a bit? No?

What are you getting out of this if you’re not masturbating?

Porn does not have much in the way of story, characters or action set-pieces. The most you can hope for is a shoplifter avoiding prosecution by banging a heavily tattooed security guard. The zillions of stepmom sex lessons/fake agent/horny doctor scenarios are even less narratively compelling. Seriously, even Hollyoaks is better.

Are you about to start wanking?

You’re assuming the answer is ‘no’, but your journey would be a lot more relaxed with a verbal assurance.

Can’t you wait until you get home?

It’ll be worth it. Compared to being on a rattling diesel vehicle with ‘BNP’ scratched onto the window meandering through suburbs, masturbating at home is as suave and sophisticated as Sean Connery seducing Ursula Andress on a Jamaican beach.

Do you compulsively watch porn in every spare moment?

While waiting for your toast to pop up, do you visit Pornhub for 90 seconds of ‘MILF blowjob compilation’? A bit of ‘Real escort f**ked three ways’ while you’re waiting for your kid’s appearance in the school play? During the silent contemplation section of a memorial service, do you squeeze in a couple of minutes of ‘Husband catches wife with best friend’?

Have you got a girlfriend?

Surely this can’t be compatible with a normal relationship? Or maybe expectations are that low now? ‘Craig’s so romantic, he didn’t wank once during dinner.’

Am I the one out of step with society?

Has society become so debased that you’re the weirdo? Could you have mitigated the boredom of Jurassic World Dominion by wanking whenever Bryce Dallas Howard appeared on screen, gaily flinging jism around the auditorium, and no one would have batted an eyelid?