Blur bassist Alex James has a piece in today's Independent magazine that is so ludicrously pretentious that it must be a joke. In an article that seems destined for Pseud's Corner, James writes about his first trip to McDonald's in 20 years:
Although it was just an ordinary Coca-Cola, there was something deeply pleasing about the cup; the packaging is all part of the McDonald's spell. The ergonomic perfection of the container's shape, its size, its weight, its proportions and the satisfying way that the ice cubes rattled around in it. A fragile vessel, it was quite a piece of engineering, really, almost musical, with its taut-as-a-drum top, and begging to be sucked dry, scrunched up and thrown away.
Alex, it's a cup. Have you bought a coffee lately? Or a drink from, well, anywhere? Where have you been?
Anyway, what did you think of the burger?
The burger box performs a Wonderbra kind of function. It makes the steaming sandwich sit up and beg. Like a breast in many ways, the Big Mac sags under the crude tug of Earth's immense gravity. It would best be presented floating in free space. I doubt it would disassemble itself in zero g, as it seems to be intrinsically bonded together by some kind of electroweak cheese force.
Now I think you've put me off burgers and breasts. Thanks. And "electroweak cheese force"? Are you high?
I hate to ask, Alex, but what about the chips?
The chips are quite close to the crisp end of the potato's infinite spectrum of delights, somewhere to the left of a chipstick but to the right of the true chip family. They are heavily salted and it's the salt that I craved, but they've got crunch and puff and they're straighter than steel, a side order of yin.
Straighter than steel? A side order of yin? Alex, calm down.