From aggressive marketing to shit food: The five stages of using meal box kits

WERE you tricked into ordering a big box of food and some bad recipes with the lie that a meal kit would be cheap and easy? Here are the stages of finding out it’s not.

Aggressive marketing with confusing discounts

It seems like every YouTube video starts with an advert for a meal box kit, plus your friends and family have discount codes coming out of their ears. You give it a go, despite wondering how humanity has been preparing meals wrongly for millennia and meal boxes weren’t invented sooner.

Choosing from two good meals and 18 crap ones

You excitedly scroll through the website to choose your menu and quickly realise that there are only two potentially interesting meals amongst all the burgers, wedges and penne with chicken. Maybe it will seem more delicious when you see the actual recipe, you optimistically think to yourself.

Receiving a massive box and a shitload of packaging

A few days later an absolutely huge box arrives at your door. When you finally make it through the various paper and plastic bags, half-melted ice packs and stuff that looks weirdly like loft insulation, you’re left with some piddly packs of meat and a few sad looking vegetables.

Trying to use a recipe that’s so ‘simple’ it barely exists

Meal box kits sell themselves on being ‘simple’ but the recipe cards you receive are so basic that you’re have to guess half of the instructions. Still, you manage to cobble together a meal that you pray is cooked through, as getting food poisoning would make a mockery of the company’s claim that this is a fun and pleasant way to eat.

Pretending to enjoy a disappointing meal that looks nothing like the picture

Finally, you sit down to a meal that looks nothing like the picture on the website and is so bland you end up adding loads of salt to make it vaguely taste of something. Healthy? No. Convenient? Not really. Just a big, flavourless pain in the arse. And you’re locked into a legal agreement that says you must have at least three a week.

Why we must stop pensioners stealing warm air on buses. The Telegraph view

By Daily Telegraph columnist Denys Finch Hatton 

WARM air costs money. It is not there for old people to bask luxuriously in on frivolous all-day bus journeys, with the pathetic excuse that their homes are cold and they might die.

Virtue-signalling celebrities like Susanna Reid might feel sorry for ‘Elsie’, but let’s call this what it is – theft, no different to raiding a jeweller’s shop and bludgeoning the owner in a frenzied attack with a claw hammer, leaving them with life-changing injuries.

I’ve got some questions for Elsie. Why can’t she afford heating? Is she spending her generous state pension on bingo and cigarettes? What’s wrong with putting eight jumpers on? Why not keep warm by burning your furniture and old photos? 

Most saliently, why didn’t she get better results at school that would have led to a highly-paid job and a 40k pension? I’m not expecting an answer from Elsie, just demands for more handouts. I expect she’s got a pricey hip replacement and the latest angina pills on her shopping list next.

Buses are for poor but productive people to get to their soul-destroying jobs. Elsie seems to think buses are there for anyone who wants to use them. She’s enjoyed a long and happy life, compared to someone in the Dark Ages, with all the latest gadgets and luxuries – indoor toilets, anaesthetic, shoes – and still she wants more.

It seems everyone is entitled these days. First it was the millennials, but now they’re safely on a treadmill of debt and extortionate rents we must find new hate figures to keep everyone riled up and voting Conservative.  

Some might call me uncaring. Some would say I’ve gone a bit crazed with right-wing dogma. But I have no hesitation in saying this: die, Elsie, die. Get yourself to a euthanasia clinic. And if you can’t do the right thing, the government should.