The killjoys can eat humble pie. Dairy and red meat fats aren’t bad for you and now there are hard figures to back up the case I’ve been making for years
I finally know what it must have felt like to be Nelson Mandela. Only without the decades of incarceration. Or the human rights abuses. OK, I have no idea what it felt like to be Nelson Mandela. But I am certainly getting a sense of what it feels like to be a fighter in a rag-tag rebel force whose cause has finally been recognised as virtuous. I am a one-time pariah who has been accepted back into the mainstream as a speaker of truth. I am the Luke Skywalker of food. Here’s what’s happened: after decades of conflict, of name-calling and bitterness and Gillian-bloody-McKeith and “lean” bacon I mean, really! the war on dietary fat is over. Fat, on whose behalf I fought so valiantly, is no longer the enemy. It is our friend. At last I may step out of the rhetorical forest and lay down my less than rhetorical steak knife.
We know the war on fat is over because recently Time magazine made it their cover story. Johnny-come-bloody-latelys. Oh yeah. You’re smearing yourself in the stuff now. But where were you when those of us in the vanguard were up to our nipples in lard, wrestling with the nutritional naysayers? Where were you when I was scarfing six bags of pork scratchings in one sitting just to make a point? In the low-fat aisle, smugly clutching tubs of low-fat “butter”. That’s where.