Jellied Babies (late 1970s)

This week's theme of human consumption continues with this popular Jellied Babies confectionery packaging from the late 1970s.

It's that time of the year when people tear unborn offspring away from incarcerated, drugged, distraught adults, paint them lurid colours, as if to mock them, then devour the helpless, would-be babies in front of the tormented parents. It's a bit like an annual jolly pogrom.

However, in the spirit of fairness, people in Scarfolk believed that chickens should not be the only creatures to lose their young during the festive spring period. Rabbit and otter eggs were also frequently consumed in Scarfolk, and human orphans in aspic were a particular favourite. Jellied Babies went into production after the council realised that the cost of foster care was prohibitive, especially because funds were needed for more beneficial things, such as quality garden furniture for the second homes of politicians.

In general, child donation can actually be financially lucrative. For example, when God sacrificed his own child for the good of society, he made sure he got a cut of the publishing and merchandising rights.

Happy Ēostre from Scarfolk Council.

 

Click to enlarge

 

If you have any unwanted children please write to: KiddyKomestibles Ltd, Scarfolk Industrial Park, SC1 6FG to arrange for a FREE pick up.

"An End to Starvation?" (Pelican Books, 1973)

Before the 1970s, the idea of reprocessing human body parts had only been officially proposed once. In 1790, Arnold Bumb, an alchemist, necromancer and avid shopper, suggested that amputated human limbs be surgically spliced onto livestock to make them more efficient. His pamphlet "The Duck With My Wife's Foot" was very popular among agriculturists (and fetishists) of the time.

But it wasn't until the 1970s, when poverty levels were at their highest since the the second world war, that the government published a white paper proposing a solution to Britain's impending food deficit.

Since the advent of modern medicine, hospitals had been incinerating post-operative surgical and biological waste, and to many people this was considered both uneconomical and unethical. In the early 1970s, a nationwide study into the numbers of body parts amputated annually showed that there were enough discarded limbs, organs and even hair, to feed a county the size of Lancashire, as long as people supplemented their diet with fingernail biting, thumb sucking, and by popping over the border into Yorkshire for an occasional pub lunch.

The government's trial schemes were so successful that some hospitals, such as Royal Wimpy Infirmary, St. McDonalds General and North Findus Hospital shifted away from healthcare and became fully-fledged food processors and suppliers.

Follow the Country Code (1979)

Scarfolk's farmers, like its firemen and policemen, are very delicate but have demanding jobs. Farmers wake up very early, often before lunchtime, to sing ballads to wheat fields, counsel anxious potatoes and smear themselves with shit.

They must also be able to communicate telepathically with livestock destined for ritual sacrifice. Pagan rites are complex and it's crucial that animals learn their lines and do exactly as they are instructed. Even the slightest deviation from standard procedure can lead to a faulty communion with the Nameless Lord of No Known Name, whom locals call Mr. Johnson for the sake of brevity.
Most sacrificial animals are fully aware of their fates and tend to mumble or mime their lines to delay the inevitable. It's not death that bothers them so much as being reincarnated as motorway service station employees.

A not very well hidden April Fools' bonus image is here