So, watching Chef Idol’s Got Talent (yeah yeah, reality TV is an oxymoron and it’s all bunk and feeding our one-hour photo instant-oatmeal quick-fix plastic-fantastic Madison Avenue narcissism; whatever – I like food and I’m grownup enough to be able to metaphorically eat around the worst of the contrivances), and someone asks a chef, “What protein are you using?” in reference to a pork chop (no doubt under direction from someone off-camera wearing a headset – they’ve done this not-mentioning of the war, so to speak, for years).
Protein. Why the euphemism? It’s meat. Call it meat. It’s not like there’s ever any ambiguity – contestants are hardly rocking out on tofurkey burgers or Quorn mince. Is the implication of the usage of “meat” – that the original source was once happily gambolling around a field (or more likely, shut up in a stall) – thought to be a bit much for delicate viewers? Is it a case of that old, usually entirely fabricated nemesis, “political correctness gone mad?”
Come on, Mastertubbyoldblokes, let’s call a splade a splade. We’re not idiots, nor are we sitting here weeping over a slice of poor Peppa Pig with caramelised shallots and an apple and cinnamon reduction.