It’s MAN v FOOD (and the food won).
There are some things that just aren’t meant to go together. Shiny shorts and smart black brogues with grey socks, thrash metal music and nursing homes, cheeseburgers and doughnuts.
Unfortunately nobody seems to have mentioned that last one to pub chain Hungry Horse, which came in for flak last week for launching a dish consisting of two beef burgers topped with cheese, four bacon rashers and BBQ sauce, sandwiched between two glazed ring-doughnuts. Mmmm. Yummy.
The abomination contains nearly 100% of a woman’s recommended daily calorie intake at a whopping 1,996 calories. Critics dubbed it “a heart attack on a plate”, though, frankly, death sounds preferable to actually having to finish the thing.
But when I saw a photo of the stomach-churning meal I wasn’t just repelled . . . I was inspired too! Could I create a “meat-n-sweet” combo to rival the queasy creation?
There was only one way to find out.
The Eclair Dog
Ingredients: One hot dog (hot), one cream-filled chocolate eclair, hot dog mustard to garnish.
Prep: Microwave hot dog, slice open eclair, nestle hot dog in the creamy interior, liberally apply mustard to taste.
Result: My first step into the unknown is filled with trepidation. There’s something at once familiar and disgustingly wrong about the Eclair Dog. It looks like a normal hot dog at first glance, but then you see the cream oozing out round the sausage, mixing with the luminous yellow of the mustard, and you realise it’s anything but normal. The chocolate has also started to sweat due to the heat of the hot dog. I am beginning to sweat too as I raise the pastry and pork monstrosity to my quivering lips and take a bite. Hang on . . . that’s . . . that’s . . . not bad. At least not as bad as it should be in any sane universe. Granted I wouldn’t order it at the pictures with my popcorn, but it doesn’t make me lose my lunch over the table. The mustard doesn’t work, but the cream and chocolate compliment the smokey sausage nicely. A surprising start.
The Scotch Belgian
Ingredients: One Scotch pie, one sticky Belgian bun, beans (hot), tomato ketchup.
Prep: Heat the pie, cut bun in half and place pie on base, top pie with beans and lashings of ketchup, top with upper half of bun.
Result: There is one thing that divides people into two distinct camps no, not the recent independence referendum, but those who have tried a pie on a roll and those who have not. The latter need to have a wee word with themselves, for the Scotch pie on a roll is a thing of great beauty and gastronomic brilliance. But can the same be said for this Continental take on the Scottish classic? In a word, no. It’s an affront to nature! A vile mess of stodgy pastry, greasy grey meat, thick, sweet dough and sticky icing. The glac cherry is the last straw and sees me hurl the offensive lump across the room in the direction of the bin. I have to call in a specialist army unit dressed in biohazard suits to dispose of the piebun safely. I believe it has been buried at sea in a lead-lined container. This should never be spoken of again.
Triple Choc Lorne
Ingredients: One slice of Lorne sausage (hot), one slice of processed cheese, brown sauce, two large triple choc chip cookies. Prep: Fry Lorne sausage (or grill if on a diet), place on one cookie, top with cheese and brown sauce, place second cookie on top. 
Result: I’m still having body-shuddering aftershocks 20 minutes after the trauma of the Scotch Belgian, so I approach the Triple Choc Lorne with fear (and fat) in my heart. Will this be the one to truly break me? Will I emerge a different person? Will my family recognise me as the man they once knew? I lift the sausage/cookie combo with trembling hands and force myself to munch. I chew and swallow. Then take another bite. And another. Before I know it half has disappeared. My belly can’t get its head round what’s going on. It should be vile, but it tastes . . . good! The Mexicans add chocolate to their chilli, so is adding chocolate biscuits to a sliced sausage really any different? Yes. Yes it is. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a great new dawn in the field of food. You’re welcome, world.
Spicy Tunnock’s Wrap
Ingredients: One tortilla wrap, three slices of bacon (fried or grilled), hot chilli sauce, two Tunnock’s Tea Cakes.
Prep: Fry the bacon till crispy, microwave the wrap, add bacon to wrap, top with two tea cakes (squash them down so the mallow squidges out), top with plenty of hot chilli sauce.
Result: The dancing Tunnock’s Tea Cakes were a big hit at the Glasgow Commonwealth Games, but just think how much more of an impact they’d have made around the globe if they’d been on show all squished up with greasy bacon and chilli sauce. The world would have gone WILD! An opportunity missed, I think you’ll agree. The first bite of this exotic combo lulls me into a false sense of security. Not bad, not bad at all. A second bite reveals I hadn’t actually eaten any tea cake in the first one. The potentially high score plummets accordingly. The hot sauce thankfully masks the worst of it, so it isn’t inedible, but while the sweetness works with the bacon, the consistency of mallow and biscuit leaves a lot to be desired like something else to eat.
The Beast
Ingredients: Two slices of white bread, sausage roll (hot), three slices of salami, three slices of processed cheese, one banana, blackcurrant jam, one egg.
Prep: Cook sausage roll and place on slice of bread, add salami,cheese and banana, smear second slice of bread with jam and place on top, beat egg, dip sandwich in egg, fry till golden brown and cheese has melted.
Result: I am having flashbacks to the Scotch Belgian as this monstrosity sizzles menacingly. While I wait I write out a will, leaving my lard-stained shirt to my family and my notes covering these experiments to science. All too soon The Beast is ready for me. But am I ready for it? No, is the answer. I circle it slowly, certain it is moving, breathing possibly. Finally, with no thought for my own safety, I launch myself at it. First bite is, like the wrap, surprisingly tasty but only because I just nibble the salami and cheese. The second mouthful knocks me onto the floor where I lie for half an hour in a pool of grease and shame. I have been beaten by The Beast.
… and the winner is … Triple Choc Lorne 
Who’d have thought that cheap sausage meat, plastic cheese, broon sauce and limp chocolate cookies could be so good together? I am patenting this one, because there’s no doubt in my mind that in years to come we’ll all be eating these sensational snacks. Don’t forget folks, you saw it here first! And remember, if anyone ever offers you a Scotch Belgian, run away. Far, far away.
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