BOGOF Jamie Oliver and leave politics to the politicians
TV CHEF Jamie Oliver is at it again.
Last week the Turkey Twizzler PR-destroyer was stationed outside No10 lambasting the Government’s decision to delay implementing new obesity plans, while clutching a symbolic Eton Mess.
Well, not even symbolic — an actual Eton Mess pudding.
Assuming he used his own recipe and not, say, Nigella’s, it’s one containing a whopping 2,740 calories — more than the recommended daily calorie allowance for both men and women.
And herein lies the problem. Jamie’s intentions are laudable: we DO have an obesity epidemic, and kids ARE getting fatter by the picosecond. He has an important message to deliver.
But Jamie Oliver, a multi-millionaire who lives in a ten-bathroom country mansion with his 48 beautiful, Boden catalogue children and Farrow and Ball-painted walls, is not the man to deliver it.
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Little rubs the Great British public up the wrong way more than The Hypo-critical Celebrity.
No wonder, then, that some of the country’s hardest hit — those struggling to feed their kids in a burgeoning cost of living crisis — are seething.
When Boris Johnson, who has pledged to halve child obesity by 2030, reneged on plans to ban unhealthy “BOGOF” deals, he did so because he is well aware what lies ahead in the coming months.
Hell. After two years of covid-induced nanny-stating, he’s also aware many of us are sick of being told what to do.
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In an ideal world, parents would lovingly spiral courgettes and feed their kids homemade pesto and green juices. The reality is different.
Jamie is unhappy
For desperate parents on zero-hour contracts or the living wage, a £3 Tesco two-for-one meal deal ensures food in bellies. Which, frankly, is far better than the alternative - starvation.
Yet Jamie is unhappy.
Just as he was when, in 2016 it looked like Boris might come to power and Jamie took to Instagram, ranting: “Give me Boris f***ing Johnson as our Prime Minister and I’m done. I’m out.”
Bafflingly, six years on — and three years after Boris did finally come to power — Jamie remains ensconced in his £6million Essex mansion and has gamely managed to knock out nine more money-spinning books. Neither done, nor out, then.
There’s no question Jamie is a thoroughly well-meaning chap, and a loving family man.
His message is an admirable one: Ditch the Mars bars and eat your greens. Because our Jamie loves his greens.
Piled on a bit of timber
So much so, the ardent environmentalist — a one-time member of the UN’s Environment Programme — recently pocketed £5million to team up with Shell.
Yep, the company responsible for 1.67 per cent of greenhouse gas emissions globally since 1988.
Selectively Green, then, is our Jamie. The anti-ready meal campaigner has produced a range of, erm, ready meals.
His Deli by Shell range also offers a handy £4.99 Meal Deal — including sausage rolls, samosas or “flaky pastry slices”.
Pretty much celery. His “egg and bacon triple sandwich” - why have four slabs of malted bread when you can have six? — comes in swinging at 551 calories.
When Jamie himself piled on a bit of timber recently, obviously he took his own advice.
He shed 2st by eating more vegetables, and getting ”more movement” . . . courtesy of Gerard Butler’s personal trainer. A man of the people, Jamie.
Or as one “fan” commented below his Instagram post, “There is a cost of living crisis you sanctimonious, privileged pr*ck.” Which is a bit harsh.
Alas, in 2019 Britain’s great economic inequality campaigner closed 22 of his Jamie’s Italian restaurants, resulting in the loss of 1,000 jobs, and owing around £83million when it went bust.
Last January the firm’s administrator revealed that the majority of this sum — owed to food suppliers, councils and landlords — would not be recovered.
Jamie. Get back to the kitchen, and leave the politics to the politicians.
WELL, YOU CAN SCOFF . . .
WE typically monster 900 calories a day more than we care to admit, latest research shows.
This is about the equivalent of three cheeseburgers, seven packs of crisps – “snacks” we fail to acknowledge – or one-and-a-half bottles of wine.
As someone who genuinely, at some kind of cellular level, believes eating while standing up doesn’t count, and thinks liquid calories are “better” than food ones/wine is just grape juice with a twist, I’m typical of the study.
An old personal trainer once made me download food-tracking app MyFitnessPal, and log every morsel. A slip of a thing at the time – around 8st 7lb – I lasted a week.
After one particularly unfortunate day, and a 5,350-calorie intake (I’d skinned alive a whole Colin the Caterpillar), a warning message flashed up: “If you ate like this every day, you would weigh 10st 4lb in four weeks.”
Sexy rise
REMEMBER when a sex party was just that – all high jinks and swinging from chandeliers?
Well, no, neither do I, on account of having never been to one. BUT, apparently, the woke sex party is on the rise.
A company called Fox Den offers “workshops on Japanese rope bondage (no idea) and polyamory (no thanks), interspersed with homespun dishes such as lasagne and ‘sexy’ icebreaker games.”
I’d genuinely rather wash my hair. Ad infinitum.
Yes, yes, yes, Emma! I agree
REMEMBER Pretty Woman? A film in which Richard Gere’s middle-class white businessman casually picks up an escort and falls in love with her.
Despite being made 32 years ago – and according to one real-life sex worker, “being to real life what Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are to actual ninjas” – it remains one of Hollywood’s highest-grossing movies of all time.
Nothing, then, typifies Tinseltown’s double standards better than the reaction to Emma Thompson’s new release.
Good luck To You, Leo Grande, sees the actress – 63 in real life – play a 55-year-old widow seeking her first orgasm, with a male prostitute.
In one scene, Emma goes full-frontal nude.
Reviewers are besides themselves, frothing at the morality of it all.
One critic described the action as “dodgy”, while another – a bloke who’s probably never pleased a woman in his life – described the star’s character as “wound-up”. Which isn’t condescending, at all.
As Emma herself, said in an interview with Culture mag: “Surely we’re allowed to have one movie – just one! – where a woman wants something and does something men do all the time and we get to see what happens next?”
A BODY POLITIC
WITH ever-growing apathy among voters, perhaps Boris and Keir need to rethink their General Election strategies – and start channelling Australia.
This shot, of a ripped, trunk-wearing voter casting his “X” at a polling station on Bondi Beach, went viral. For obvious reasons.
Or, in the slobbering words of my colleague: “Broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles – and holding a baby. Enough to make you ovulate spontaneously.”
Although I’m not convinced snaps of male voters in Bognor or Skegness would hold quite the same appeal . . .
A MICK TAKE, HARRY
FOR baby-boomers it’s not so much a back-handed compliment, more a right-hook to the solar plexus.
For Gen Z-ers, it’s “throwing shade”.
Whatever, Sir Mick Jagger’s comments about his young pretender, Harry Styles, are inspired.
“I like Harry, we have an easy relationship,” he started off promisingly.
“I mean, I used to wear a lot more make-up than him. Come on, I was much more androgynous,” he continued, warming to his theme.
“And he doesn’t have a voice like mine or move on stage like me. He just has a superficial resemblance to my younger self, which is fine – he can’t help that.” Ooof!
- BECAUSE Covid, war and surging inflation wasn’t enough, now we have monkeypox. Obviously it’s still early days, but if Boris has learnt anything from the pandemic it’s that he must act NOW to try to halt the spread of infection. The Government must make its strategy public, and clear, dose-up on smallpox vaccine – which can provide protection – and not repeat its dallying of March 2020.
BARD TO WORSE
IN a depressing sign of the times, schools may rip Shakespeare and Dickens from the curriculum in favour of more diverse authors.
The Government’s Social Mobility Commissioner (really) warned against the move, adding: “I think dead white men still have something to offer us.”
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Sure, A Tale Of Two Cities is a bit of a grind. But the planet’s greatest-ever playwright reduced to a dead, pale guy? Please. Or, in the words of the great man himself: “Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian!”
- ONCE again, the Premier League has shown itself to be the best in the world.(With commiserations to my Liverpool- supporting friends, and Gooner Piers Morgan) Best of all, Spurs weren’t Spursy at all, while the League’s nicest man – certainly smiliest – Son Heung-min nabbed the Golden Boot Glorious.
DON'T BOTHER
AND on the subject of unsexy, give BBC Three’s Conversations With Friends a whirl if you can’t be arsed to cold-shower.
I’ve seen more sexual chemistry between my dog and her cushion than lead stars Joe Alwyn [Mr Taylor Swift] and Alison Oliver. Don’t bother.