Unwise Words
Yes my people, you heard right. I exited this cruel world last week while doing the mortal coil shuffle at Fifth Avenue, and I haven't looked back since. Obviously my mother cried when she read the news in Cherwell as she thought it indicative of my lifetime of laziness that the OxStu hadn't covered the news first. Anyway once the shock of losing my corporeality had passed I came to realise that all manner of advantages could be gained from this change of state. Death may deny you the advantages of the senses, but it gifts you the kind of knowledge you can only dream about. So with this new-found learning I set about trying to discern that age old question. What is it that makes seemingly intelligent individuals obsess about kebabs once they get inside the city limits of Oxford? Be they ironic or otherwise, the number of eulogies you hear from ordinarily sane students cannot be ignored.
So then, what is it about inedible crap served with nasty salad and on even nastier bread that inspires such ceaseless devotion among the frotting classes? And what is it that makes the purchaser always use the kebab vendor's first name? As far as I remember most people don't address the illegal immigrant behind the counter at McDonald's by their first name (thought that is not to suggest that Messrs Hassan, Hussein and Harriet Barclay do not have every right to reside in this sceptic isle). So why on earth do they try and nurture some completely specious relationship with their kebab man of choice? Surely everyone must realise that the chirpy fellow bestowing undercooked delicacies upon the post-pub crowd is secretly rubbing his hands with glee at the thought that you are paying him for the privilege of being given food poisoning?
Perhaps the answers lie in a perverse form of inverse snobbery. Every quirky individual who professes to a knowledge of kebabs rather than filets mignons instantly loses the cultural baggage of their upbringing and becomes one of the lads. Or not. When the "'bab" is mentioned legions believe themselves to fit in, rather than stick out like twats in gap corduroys and matching sweaters. By extolling the virtues of this foodstuff you too can become human, or so says the promotional material.
Everyone knows that kebabs aren't eaten for their taste or their nutritional value. They are eaten because they are the only thing available at 2am that doesn't have to be scraped off the pavement. The kebab is the edible equivalent of the wank. They do the job but are ultimately unsatisfying. So what does that make people who eat kebabs? Answers on a piece of greasy brown paper addressed to whoever has this job next term - so long folks.
8th Jun 2000