The Branston Pickle mysteries…

Why do I eat Branston Pickle? After all, I'm not sure that I really like it and why do the lumps always congregate towards the centre of the bread? What are those lumps anyway? According to the ingredients they are a variety of diced vegetables which includes swede, carrot, onion, cauliflower, onion, and gherkin with a sauce made from spices and sugar. But it's the including bit that bothers me. Just what are Mr Cross and Blackwell forgetting to mention.

Could some of those lumps be a little more sinister than Messrs Cross and Blackwell are letting on? Are they actually cubes of triffid stem or chunks of alien seedpod? Of course you can get smooth alien free Branston, but what’s the point of Branston without chunks? Are they trying to lull us into a false sense of security? Maybe the plan is to get us all to eat Branston and then replace us with replica beings whilst we are in a Branston drugged sleep. Or could those chunks be the fruit of the Himalayan moon flower? You know the one I mean; the flower that only blooms at full moon and is the single cure for werewolfism (lycanthropy if you prefer). Maybe Branston is there to sort out the wolves from the chaps… Wooooooooooo!

Unlikely? Well, there is definitely something a little bit odd about Branston. You see it seems to have a life all of its own. For example: why can I never find it in the cupboard? I move jar after jar of jam and mustard, shift cans and boxes until the cupboard is bare and I still can’t find that elusive Houdini-like jar. Then, when I am least expecting it, I find it in my hand as if by magic.

Perhaps each jar of Branston exists in infinite multiple universes, simultaneously slipping through space and time like some pickle based Dr Who, because another weird thing is that there seems to be a jar of Branston at the back of every kitchen cupboard in every household in the UK - even if the householder has never bought a jar of Branston in his or her pickle-free life. Is Branston controlling the vertical? Is Branston controlling the horizontal? Are we all living in a Branston created Pickle Twilight Zone?

‘Do you have any Branston Pickle in the cupboard Mary?’

‘I don’t think so Scott; no, definitely not.’

But Scott looks anyway and eventually realises that was holding a jar of Branston in his hand all along. Wait! Is that really HIS hand? (cue Theremin-based theme music) Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do…

Yes, that damned pickle is as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel and as omnipresent as God... and what about the quotas? Why can I never get the amount of Branston just right? My cheese sandwich always seems to have so much of the rich brown matter that I can’t taste the cheese, or so little that I wonder if I remembered to put the any of the bloody stuff on my sandwich at all. It’s as if the force of the Branston is controlling my judgement and bending me to its will.

People, be warned! Branston Pickle is a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma contained within a wholly innocent looking jar and it is all around us…

Spread it.