Is it a plane? Is it a dirty protest? Is it Lady GaGa? Is it ‘me mum’?
No. Just, no. It’s a man, with gravy all. Over. His. Bo. Dy. Holding aloft Willy Wonka’s golden ticket.
He’s also the winner (NB. We’re all winners in this life. Unless you came second or thereafter, in which case you’re one of life’s losers. Deal with it) of the annual Gravy Wrestling Championship, held each year in
London’s glittering Lancashire. A place it’s unlikely you’ve ever been to or indeed will go to, unless you use coal as others would use a mattress or food.
Oh, and Bisto sponsored it. You know, sellers of gravy-related produce. (That last bit was for our none-UK of British viewers, who might at this point be thinking, ‘What the fuck does, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Bisto!” mean? If you really want to know, jump the jump sponsored by Colman’s Mustard.)
But wanna know something that’s really tight? As in mean? As in tight? Bisto provided out-of-date gravy. Out-of-date? It retails at like 0.7p per gallon – how measly can you get, hmmmmmmmn, Bisto?
(We love you, Gravy Wrestling Man.)