I fear what’s going to happen with these strict new food laws…

Delicious food. But it got me into trouble

I can see it now. Fear it even.

I go to a pub for a meal.

And then one night, a month later, I’m sitting at home watching the telly when I suddenly notice flashing blue lights outside.

I pull back the curtains and see four Garda cars on the road.

I think I see figures stooping outside our garden gate.

I’m not sure. 

But I’m not sure for long.

Because all of a sudden, there’s a bang on the front door.

“GARDA SIOCHÁNA. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,” a voice screams in a country accent because proper gardai always have country accents.

I nervously open the front door.

There are guns pointed at me.

“Are you Paddy Murray?” a voice asks from behind a mask.

I confirm that I am.

“Did you eat in Brady’s of Terenure a month ago?”
I confirm that I did.

“We have a record of what you ate.”
I stare into space not sure what to do next.

“You had vegetable soup to start.”

I confirm that such is the case.

“Your main was steak Diane, potatoes and broccoli,” the voice said.

I tell the voice that he is correct. 

“You had apple pie and ice cream for dessert.”

I confirm that that too is correct.

“I’m afraid we have to ask you to come with us.”

I get very worried. And I ask why.

“You didn’t eat your broccoli,” the voice said.

“But…” I begin to protest.

“Yet you had dessert. You know very well, you don’t get dessert unless you eat your vegetables. Your mother told you that.”

I admit what I did.

And I’m handcuffed and put in the garda van.

I’m thinking, God knows when I’ll see my family again.

And then I wake up.

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