You say 'piggy-wiggy', I say 'pork chop'
I LOVE meat.
In fact, I might love meat a little bit too much.
There's more chance of me dancing the lead role in Swan Lake with the Australian Ballet than there is of me turning vegetarian.
I'm sorry, but if God had meant us to be vegetarians, he wouldn't have made animals out of meat.
Having said that, I will admit I was a bit surprised when I heard about that butcher down at Burpengary who was in trouble for naming his shop The Squealing Pig.
You saw that, didn't you? He copped an absolute caning from the animal rights people and the vegans.
I felt sorry for the bloke but even I, the self-professed King of Meat Eaters, felt a little bit squeamish about his choice of business name.
Do you think naming a butcher's shop 'The Squealing Pig' is appropriate?
This poll ended on 10 August 2017.
Yes - it's funny
No, it is a bit much.
Queasy name or not, he can name is own business what he likes.
This is not a scientific poll. The results reflect only the opinions of those who chose to participate.
He and his supporters reckon it reflects the noise pigs make when they're in the paddock.
Which is fair enough but I can't escape the mental image of a pig's final seconds before he goes to the great pigsty in the sky.
It's not something I like to think about when I'm chewing down on a big chunk of pig, feeling the piggy juices running down my chin and savouring the gentle crunch of baked piggy skin between my teeth.
Just wait on a second, I feel a bit light-headed.
Okay, I'm better now.
The problem is, what sort of world would we live in if every shop that sold animal products decided that "truth in advertising" was the way to go.
Think of the ramifications for a day's shopping.
After you'd been into The Squealing Pig to grab a chunk of dead piggy, you could nip over to the supermarket and get a dozen unfertilised chicken foetuses.
On your way out, you'd be able to get a litre of baby cow food before you head home to throw a slice of cow's rump on the barbie.
Personally, I like to wash my hunk of cow meat down with a glass of fermented grape juice.
Which brings me to the day's good news - cheap wine is good.
Really, really good apparently.
As someone who looks directly toward the bottom shelf when he walks into the bottle shop, I have long been aware of the quality of wines available for $5 a bottle.
And when they're on special, I can stay relatively unsober for less than $10 a week.
(Okay, unsober is not really a word but I like to maintain an aura of class and breeding whenever I can).
Don't get me wrong, I have helped a mate polish off a $1000 bottle of red but I can't say it was 200 times better than my regular drop.
My faith in cheap wine was justified the other day when a red wine sold exclusively by Coles received accolades at an international competition.
The $6 cabernet sauvignon (cab sav to you and moi) went head-to-head with some of the world's most prestigious labels at the Melbourne International Wine Competition and came out on top, earning the coveted "double gold" medal.
In a blind tasting the St Andrews Cabernet Sauvignon (I like to call it "Andy's cab sav") was given a gold rating by all of the judges.
So there you go. You don't always need money to buy class.
Although it helps when a bloke's looking for a decent drop of plonk to go with his chunk of chook.
Or his slab of pig.