Steak And Champagne In Westminster — Bless ’Em, May The Indigestion Hit Harder Than The Budget

Should supermarkets stop acting like pork is the Beyoncé of the meat aisle and give halal chicken, lamb and beef the VIP treatment?

Naturally, it’s not about giving Muslims “preference”; it’s simply acknowledging that 4 million of them live here and perhaps the meat aisle needn’t resemble a pork‑themed art installation curated by someone who says ‘mahogany’ for fun.

I don’t mind a halal shelf in supermarkets — that’s perfectly sensible — but I’d also quite like some pork on the shelves too, rather than feeling it’s gone on annual leave without telling anyone.

I don’t mind halal shelves at all — they’re useful — I just don’t love it when anyone acts like the supermarket should rearrange itself in their honour, as if they’re the King of Tesco issuing royal decrees from the frozen aisle.

I don’t mind halal shelves at all — crack on — I just don’t love it when anyone behaves as if the supermarket should revolve around their personal dietary orbit. If you want full control of the meat aisle, that’s what opening your own shop is for, not issuing dramatic proclamations in front of the reduced‑to‑clear stickers.

If there’s that much demand for halal, opening a shop would probably do brilliantly — honestly, with the way people queue for meat, you could stick “Halal Emporium” on a sign and be profitable before you’ve even plugged in the fridge.

If there’s that much demand for halal, a dedicated shop would probably make a fortune — just try not to make it so expensive that people need to take out a small mortgage to buy a chicken thigh.

A mobile halal van is honestly a cracking idea — stick it in areas with lots of Muslim families, and it’d do a roaring trade. Proper old‑school vibes too: like the egg man, the pop man, and the milkman… all of whom seem to have vanished into the same mysterious void where Woolworths went.

A mobile halal van would actually make perfect sense in this economy — hardly any overheads, no fancy shop rent, just rock up, sell your meat, and crack on. Meanwhile supermarkets are charging such ridiculous prices that buying a steak now requires a mortgage advisor, a guarantor, and possibly a character reference. Even Wetherspoons has given up — and when Spoons says “sorry, too pricey”, you know the country’s gone off the rails.

I bet the Prime Minister and his MPs are currently sitting down to a slap‑up steak dinner with a nice glass of Champagne — bless them. I genuinely hope they don’t get indigestion; it’d be awful if the country’s economic decisions finally gave them heartburn for a change.