Squire Porter is Defeated

It is not often that I can report that that famous glutton, Squire Porter is defeated. However, I can now state that he has indeed had to leave some unfinished food upon his salver.

His country estate will be in shock on hearing this news. His cook will probably faint in anguish and fret as to whether her winter supplies of offal will ever be devoured. His doctor will be anticipating an increase in fees and will even now be browsing for a new pocket watch in celebration. However, the local baker will rue the day that he sold his youngest son to pay for his new bread oven.

It was a wet night in the rum soaked streets of maritime Bristol that the Squire and I met for a snifter and a soupcon of food before our trip to the music hall. We stumbled into an exotic looking eaterie staffed by Romans. Our orders for their finest pie was met with an insolent shrug and they brought us mounds of food the like of which we had ne’er seen since our days at Floggers Boarding School. Doughy products covered in tomato and pigmeat, and a rugger ball sized pile of pasta drenched in mince and tomato.

After approximately 10 minutes, the Squire began to sweat. He mopped his brow and soldiered on. After 15 minutes, the old chap had to loosen his kneckerchief and remove his bulging belt. But the Squire is made of oak. An Englishman does not give up so lightly. We Englishman know how the natives live in the far flung colonies and are proud to eat all that any servant may put before us.

But after 20 minutes the top buttons of his trousers popped. This was too much for our dear friend to bear. His ruddy complexion was beginning to pale and his handkerchief was now drenched in the meat sweats. The chap gave up and still with a nugget of scoff on his plate.

 A beaten man. I never thought that I would see the day. This is the same chap who famously won the great Farmyard Challenge wager of ’85 when he ate a lamb, a pig and a cow for breakfast.

The oak that stirs within him still beats though. The brave man still accompanied me to the Music Hall and he still managed a few rum toddies at the Sailors Arms, but he drew the line at bouncing the maids upon his knee.