I’m mild allergy Intolerant

“How are you?” I always answer good, great, fantastic, even if I am feeling a little under the weather, or last nights vindaloo has left me running to-the-loo. The response I hear all too often is, “I’m a little bloated from eating a piece of bread, I have a mild case of celiacs.” Now let me take a deep breath here, swallow down my delicious piece of sesame seed encrusted Vienna loaf, topped with peanut butter and crab dip and say that unless you have a pen that is filled with adrenaline on you at all times, even in the shower, then don’t tell me about it! The only qualifier for filling me in is if need to let me know and train me to use it on the off chance that a sesame seed falls onto your foot, potentially ending your life within two minutes, unless this is the case, get over yourself! If something disagrees with you, frustration fueled drum-roll …eat around it fatty, and don’t tell anyone.

These are all pathetic first world problems like “my car stereo won’t read a 16-gig USB stick, or “There are too many choices on the menu!” And then you have the third world problems such as "I fear for my life constantly and my brother was just abducted by the 'free democratic peoples party' while searching for clean water." Think about that for a minute next time your telling someone in detail about the rash on your inner arm every time you eat slightly unripe tomatoes.

I wonder if UNICEF and World Vision deal with a lot of cases of mild food allergies when they supply food to famine ravaged and starving war-torn areas. I am going to go out on a malnourished limb and say no. I am presuming the hierarchy of needs kicks in faster then you can cook a pack of two-minute noodles between meals.


The Fruitarians of the world are ruining my BBQ. No, I have not catered for people who only eat fruit that has fallen from the tree, and yes the Soysages were cooked in the BBQ fat of real animals, that is the only way they are anyway tolerable. Don’t forget it was the late great Kurt Cobain who told us “It’s ok to eat fish, cause they don’t have any feelings.” I do have a box of BBQ shapes, a tub of hommus, and a copy of the book, “10 steps to being annoying at social events,” if you would like to accompany me to the special people corner.

If people are going to insist on ruining my meal with detailed descriptions of their terribly feeble afflictions, perhaps that is the done thing. If that’s the case then allow me to get some payback... While you were eating your Christmas trifle, I hope you remembered that jelly is made from the hooves of horses, one of which may have been named black beauty just like the one you rode as a child that time on holidays. The turkey you carved up was named Denis. He preferred corn over grain and loved the morning sun. And finally the ham, let us stop and think of Babe – a pig in the city, trucked to the city then covered in apple sauce. Payback is a beach, and that is where I spent Christmas, eating a Black Beauty Trifle, Babe and applesauce roll, and a cranberry Denis without any minor allergic reactions.

Jonathan is an MX reader who does not tolerate your lack of tolerance