I Ate A Mutant Burger And It Gave Me Mutant Poop

We get a lot of junk food sent into the office. So when a PR company announced via email that Deliveroo was putting together a fast food delight was inspired by Mystique, of course I was interested.

What the PR firm didn’t tell me was the horrors I’d have to endure the week afterwards.

It was pitched as an homage to the new X-Men movie, a burger themed after the iconic shapeshifting Mystique. Put together by Ribs & Burgers, the creation was billed as a triple chilli beast with crumbed chicken, blue cheese, lettuce, spanish onion and tomato all encapsulated in a sesame seed bun.

That happened to be bright blue. Electric blue, if you will.

At the time, our erstwhile publisher chimed in with a nugget of wisdom.

“There will be repercussions,” he quipped.

There were.

You know what happens when you put that much food dye in your body? It comes out the other end.

FOR A WEEK.

The burger itself, incidentally, wasn’t too bad. The triple chilli element was oversold to the rafters — the most kick on mine came from the spanish onion, and the blue cheese sauce which slowly spilled out over my plate and hands.

And while I’m a big fan of blue cheese sauce on steak — roquefort with a bit of cream melted down is divine — it didn’t really work here. It just became one heavy flavour cancelling out another, and the greasy aftertaste left you feeling a bit shameful by the end of it all.

Having The Burger Project and Bar Luca literally minutes away from our office really has spoiled me when it comes to “fast food”.

Especially when those burgers don’t give you daily reminders that you missed out on tickets to the Blue Man Group.

When it first happened, I thought I’d popped into the loo just after the cleaners. The remnants were a bright, almost incandescent blue. I wasn’t looking by choice, incidentally — our work toilets flush via a foot pedal, so you basically have to stand and face the toilet.

But I didn’t even stop to think that the almost X-Men-esque blue radiating filling the bowl might have been a product of my creation.

Until it happened later that day. And the day after. And the day after that. The blue shits refused to cease. Was Eiffel 65 having a party in my arse? Maybe I was sick. Maybe I should I see a doctor, I thought.

What happens when the old wives tale comes true about getting hit by a bus? Will the paramedics think I’m some kind of alien?

It wasn’t just me; colleagues told me, rather delicately, that I wasn’t alone.

What a delight. We’re all experiencing a rising Blue Moon.

Note to self: don’t eat bright blue burgers again. The free lunch was nice, and Ribs & Burgers do some amazing chips. But my insides can probably do without the, uh, added colour.


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