Getting a Grilling - the Aftermath

 I wrote yesterday about the mysterious poster on behalf of the "British Toast Association" that had been put in a prominent place near Ruislip Manor Station. I pondered that it might be a spoof but opted instead for the far more likely reason that sinister forces might be afoot.

Today, whilst in haste to the station to catch a rare train (serious delays following an all-out Tube strike yesterday), I noticed a large group of hi-vis vest wearers near the station, and on drawing closer saw some with cameras and other gear. Their attention was focussed on the mysterious poster. I had intended to take a proper photo but there was not enough time so I caught a quick snap, which I here present to you:

Alas, I missed off the left side where the toast itself was pictured, but at least I recorded something because on my return, a  few hours later, the yellow-jacketed crew was gone, the street was quiet and the poster had been replaced by something else.

So it was all a stunt after all, an advertising shoot or perhaps a TV sketch, or a clip to be used in a drama. Or maybe there really is to be a British Toast Association and they were preparing the publicity material for the grand launch, presumably at the Dome (or whatever it's called these days), complete with a display of precision toast-ejection by a group of girls on horseback, balloons showering crumbs over the Thames and celebrities munching away merrily for the cameras. I look forward to missing it.

Getting a Grilling

 A poster has appeared by Ruislip Manor Station. On a plain white background, it features a picture of a very well-done piece of toast, has a slogan saying something like "Make your weekdays more weekend with toast" and bears the name of British Toast Association.  That is all. I was unable to take a picture as I was driving past at the time but will endeavour to do so.

There is no such thing as the British Toast Association. There is a Guild of Toastmasters but these people officiate at functions, praying for silence for the father of the bride, and suchlike. They do not, to the best of my limited knowledge, wield machines for the grilling of bread, nor do they judge slices as to crispness, degrees of carbonisation and suitability to bear a generous lather of butter and marmalade (insert toast topping of your choice here).  A Google search fails to reveal anything. I conclude that this is a spoof or the start of something else. 

I suspect skulduggery is afoot in the world of commercial baking. A group of disaffected crumpet-makers, in cahoots with the muffin-men and purveyors of pikelets, are planning a coup. They will announce a breakaway Super League of craft bread makers, spurning those who churn out the humble white sliced loafs, and restricting entry to a selected group. Then they will plaster our high streets with posters extolling their products

"Cor - it's Crumpet Time!";  "Bag yourself a Baguette!!"; "Wow, look at the Buns on that!!!" - that sort of thing. There will be ghastly TV adverts no doubt featuring beaming actors dancing and twirling around as they cram sophisticated fermented-yeast items into their mouths, plus an irritating jingle featuring whistling and a catchy tune. There will be National Griddle-Cake championships and Bagel Marathons, and racehorses called BannockULike. There will be lovable animated characters, although as most of the popular animal types have been taken, they may have to feature something more unusual - perhaps Jeremy and Rachel Dung-Beetle will be portrayed having adventures which always end when they gather round the family fireside scoffing craft Ciabattas and Dampfnudeln¹.

Somehow the ordinary bakers have got wind of this scheme. They have resolved to unite and strike first. Led by Jeremiah Warburton, Carol Kingsmill and Sir Geoff Hovis, they have realised that, if they get everyone hooked on toast made with their everyday products, then the Super League will be outflanked - we will all be too busy pushing down the levers on toasters, musing over whether to set the dial to 6 or 7, running cold water over our burnt finger-tips and forever picking up crumbs to worry about knocking back the odd Limpa² or Melonpan³.  

And so, in haste, the British Toast Association was born. No website as yet, no contact numbers, not even a lovable mascot to adorn their posters, but surely they will come, social media will be deluged with the promotion of good old English toast - "As good today as it was last Thursday" - and the world will be safe once again for those who want something on which to put a generous dollop of peanut butter.

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Footnotes

1. Sweet, dense and moist bread from Germany
2. Scandinavian sweet spiced rye bread
3. Crispy Japanese bun made with cookie dough

[Is that all of them? Jolly nice of Messrs Google to assist with this project: Ed]