Bacon rind. What’s not to love?

Except for the fact that it’s basically pigskin.

Nope, sorry. I’m thinking about that as hard as I possibly can, but it’s just not putting me off. And do you remember when it used to come with an inky blue tattoo? Or bristles? And when it used to sometimes have a little hard bony bit in it that could take you by surprise. Blimey – eating bacon was risky in those days. Even so I was undaunted.  

It’s just that bacon rind hits so many points. It’s salty, like peanuts. It’s chewy, like gum. It’s full of saturated fat, like … er … saturated fatty things.

It’s basically fatty, salty gum. Someone should market it. Never mind Juicy Fruit. How about Salty Rind?

Those days are long gone, of course. Now bacon comes hermetically sealed from Tesco (or elsewhere), and you’d hardly even know it had once roamed the plains on four little trotters. (Must quickly explain that I only ever buy free-range meat, so there’s no need to tell me about the miserable existence of the average pig)

Sometimes, it even comes with the rind removed.

Now, I’m sorry, but that’s just wrong.

It’s like only eating peeled fruit, surely. And we all know the vitamins are in the skin, don’t we? It’s as bad as wanting your crusts cut off. And eating crusts gives you curly hair, doesn’t it? (Doesn’t it? Wait til I next see my mother!)

And what do they do, pray, with the rind they steal from us? Apart from feeding it back to the piggies, or possibly to school children in the form of chicken nuggets. They make pork scratchings, that’s what. Pork scratchings – that most noble of British bar snacks. A bristle in every bite!

But the scarcity of NHS dentists will, no doubt, pose a serious threat to the pork scratching industry. Few of us can afford to pop a crown any more, and I’m seeing trouble ahead. There’ll be lay-offs, industrial action, riots, maybe.

I say, leave the rind on the bacon.

Why don’t they ask me?