I was once roaming the aisles of my local supermarket where I happened upon a small and hideously
grotesque bottle of "chicken spread". The bottle was fairly unassuming, being of small size, and coloured with a light blue label stating to the whole world "Hey! I am a small bottle of Chicken Spread,
DAMNIT!"
I was curious as to the contents of this small bottle, so as any good consumer does I browsed the contents section of the label. It was there that I discovered the seedy underworld of mechanically separated chickens. This information was printed in an easy to read, but unassuming, font. I don't think the font was Times New Roman but I could be mistaken. Nevertheless my mind raced as I saw flocks of chickens being hearded towards a thrashing device constructed from odd lengths of chain and various used car parts (in particular pieces of drive shafts and gears). I noted with particular interest the nonchalant look on the face of one of the chickens.
This event obviously had a large impact on me for as I drifted back to reality I noticed a large group of people gathered around me. It was then that I realised that I was completely naked with chicken spread smeared all over my body (as chicken spread should be). I now must confess that I am a 20 bottle a week man. This is not a warning but an open hearted invitation to other like minded souls wanting to share used pastrami, dessicated cheese muffins and other household cleaning implements.
I also believe the label pointed out the hazards of eating mechanically separated chicken which in sum was the possibility of choking on pieces of cartilage and bone that had been inadvertantly threshed by over enthusiastic mechanical chicken separators. I say, bring back the loving caress of female chicken separators (or male chicken separators for that matter). Maybe it should be a standard component of compulsory service to ones nation to engage in chicken separating for at least one year from the age of 17.