Chilli cheese Kranksy – you’re a living, walking Diesel Patrol who is about to leave the nearest toilet looking like it got a good amount of moot attracting soot from your fleshy exhaust pipe.
Crumbed chicken & cheese sausage – you often start a sentence with a curse word and make sure to keep an acceptable fuckens-per-minute as you demolish 3 of these bad boys on a milk crate.
Chips & gravy – your love of deep-fried fat and salt will make a cardiologist a rich man one day. For now, you’re just slopping around in decadent bliss.
Chips, chicken salt & vinegar – clearly you are lost on your way to the nearest aquatic centre. Don’t listen to whatever people tell you, your 5 laps of freestyle and 3m of butterfly definitely means you can sneak in a massive calorie hit.
Chico Roll – you’re a cabbage-munching, crop-dusting, old-school kind of operator who has never bothered to learn what exactly goes into a Chico roll. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
Corn Jack – you’re a bit of a freak but you know what you want in life. You almost definitely convince yourself that it’s the healthier option due to all those corn kernels you can see.
Pie (standard) – you’re an uncomplicated, salt-of-the-earth cobber or cobette. You tried a sausage roll once but you didn’t much care for that fancy shit. You have a full-blown dependency on tomato sauce.
Fancy pie – “fancy” is a pretty generous term for loading up a pie with cheese & egg but that’s who you are – the kinda operator that pairs their best going-out thongs with jeans. You are always on the search for the perfect pie.
Sausage roll – you are a perfectionist and you understand the concept of surface area. Your snack life is governed by finding the perfect ratio of pastry, meat, and sauce in each bite. You probably started out on the pies but got burnt too often.
Mega sausage roll – you’re just a fkn animal. Anyone who actively seeks more of that mystery meat is a pretty sick operator. You’ll always finish a meal with a satisfied look of self-loathing and disgust as you slide that 4th empty tomato sauce packet into the paper bag.
Cheese & spinach roll – you think you’re better than everyone else because your lunch includes a superfood. That or you’ve given yourself 2 weeks of a vegetarian diet because the smells you emit are beginning to concern loved ones.
Pasty – you’re either Cornish, a vego or a serial killer. Either way, no one really wants to eat lunch next to you.
Smokey – it takes a brave soul to ingest all their daily KJ allowance with one single log of cardiac arrest. You fully embrace the YOLO lifestyle and won’t hesitate to wash one down with a 600ml choccie milk. You would say “live fast die young” but after that meal you ain’t moving anywhere.
Fish cakes – you are almost certainly on notice at a workplace for your disgusting fish related offences. Whether it be microwaving up last night’s catch of the day or maintaining a level of “personal hygiene” that John West would reject.
Wingdings – you consider anyone who doesn’t eat meat off a bone to be an inferior species. You’re never satisfied until you’ve got the job done which in this case is some fully picked bones in a greasy box.
Tendies – you’re a culinary pedestrian. A gastro-pleb. You’re everything the wing ding king despises. It’s safe to say you’re no stranger to the frozen section at Woolies. You air frying peasant.
Dim sims – you are as cultured as a lunch bar grazer is likely to be. You don’t have tomato sauce, you have soy sauce and in your mind that makes you better than everyone. You’ve likely doing unspeakable things with a bag of dimmies at home (yes that sweet chilli slow cooker abomination).
Lasagna topper – you lost your grip on reality several pit stops ago. Now you just throw whatever the hell you can find down your gullet hoping to feel something again. Get off the toppers, mate, it’s a dark road.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
