In the throes of a particularly drunken evening in my second year of university, I made a wager (I clearly have a habit of doing this) with a one of my mates at the time to live as a vegan for approximately one month.  I’m talking about temporarily becoming a fully legitimate, lima-bean eating, lentil soup slurping, iron tablet ingesting, battery hen freeing, dyed-in-the-synthetic (as they don’t wear wool, man!) vegan. No meat or animal products. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

The prize? Here’s the cracker! (without cheese…)

I’m sure (at one time or another) we’ve all been unfortunate enough to find ourselves in a social situation where a self-righteous militant vegan is holding court over the group and beating their captive audience into guilt-ridden submission about their choices to live an ‘unclean’ life by eating meat. Generally, this lecture (and believe me, it’s a fucking lecture!) is given in a vaguely patronizing manner and backed with spurious ‘facts’ about the livestock industry (with a dash of condescension and some eye-rolling gestures thrown in for good measure).

I lived life as a vegan for a month so that every time one of these sanctimonious crusading vegan pricks begins their utterly predictable sermon about the righteous and superior path of veganism I can interrupt them immediately with a simple comment like, ‘It’s really strange that you like being vegan. I was a vegan for a while. It was shit. Shut your stupid fucking mouth and have one of these kebabs. They’re delicious.’

In all seriousness though, it was one of the worst months of my life.

Militant vegans are generally of types of individuals that’ll deliberately leave pro-vegan/anti-meat industry literature around their home on the off-chance you might come over for a fair-trade coffee. They’ll always find a way to ‘accidentally’ stumble across one as soon as you’re comfortable and dominate conversation with it for the next two hours (or until you get sick of them and kill them and/or leave).

Regarding the purported health benefits, I felt none. In fact, despite my strict adherence to what would be considered a varied and nutritious vegan diet, I felt considerably worse at the end of the month. Admittedly, I didn’t take iron tablets, but I feel that the need to take a synthetic supplement to provide me with something that I could obtain from eating the occasional porterhouse kind of makes the whole vegan-is-better argument fait accompli. I had to tend to my grandfathers’ estate towards the end of the ‘bet’ month; this involved a great deal of heavy lifting as I acted as removalist for a weekend. I felt significantly weaker than usual and my lack of power made an already difficult task even more arduous. I guess that explains why a lot of full-time male vegans are limp-wristed, hunch-shouldered, effeminate, wet-blanket pussies, doesn’t it?

I also really enjoy the argument that some vegans present that centres on humanity having evolved to the point where we can now make the conscious decision not to eat meat. The irony of their argument is that they couldn’t actually have formed the argument at all, had their ancestors being emulating their actions and snacking on foliage instead of Dino Steaks. Sorry, I know that this is an historically incorrect example due to the significant gap between the extinction of dinosaurs and the evolution of mankind, but I enjoy the enormous, comical Flintstones-style of T-Bone steaks and felt that this would help to further enhance the imagery I’m seeking, which is essentially of a hirsute Neanderthal lifting a significant chunk of glistening red-raw rump-steak above his head in triumph like an ancient talisman whilst grinning absent-mindedly….

Veganism. Good for animals. Shit for humans.

/end communication