Kemi Badenoch, the Conservative leader in opposition, may have made headlines for her controversial opinions on various matters, but it’s her latest rant about sandwiches that has really struck a nerve. In an interview with The Spectator, Badenoch dismissed the humble sandwich, calling it “not real food” and boldly declaring, “It’s what you have for breakfast.”
The notion that sandwiches aren’t “real food” is a direct assault on a staple of British cuisine. The sandwich, a simple but ingenious creation, is woven into the very fabric of British life, and to dismiss it in such a flippant manner is, quite frankly, un-British. John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, might be rolling in his grave. This aristocrat’s invention, designed for convenience, has served as lunch for generations. It’s iconic, practical, and – let’s face it – utterly delightful. Yet, Badenoch seems intent on robbing it of its rightful place in the British culinary canon.
Her distaste for the sandwich doesn’t end there. In her bizarre condemnation of lunch, she suggests that eating while working is somehow superior. “Lunch is for wimps,” she quips, as though the very act of pausing for a meal during a busy day is a sign of weakness. Badenoch’s attempt to redefine productivity culture might be admired by some, but to many, it smacks of elitism. Not everyone can afford to snack on steak while typing emails. For most people, lunch is a much-needed respite from the grind, an opportunity to recharge, and often, a chance to enjoy a humble sandwich.
Let’s break this down. Badenoch claims that “sometimes I will eat a steak,” while working through lunch. Now, that’s fine if you’ve got the time, resources, and inclination to devour a steak during a meeting, but most working-class Brits are hardly dining on steaks at their desks. For many, a sandwich is a practical, affordable, and quick way to fuel up without missing a beat. It’s a meal that can be eaten on the go, wrapped in paper, and often made with leftovers, making it a sustainable choice for busy people who aren’t interested in wrestling with a knife and fork while trying to hit a deadline.
The real kicker, however, is her bizarre rejection of moist bread. “I will not touch bread if it’s moist,” she declares. It’s almost as if she’s turning her nose up at the very nature of a sandwich. Yes, bread should not be soggy – but that’s not the same thing as saying sandwiches are inherently “bad” because they might, on occasion, get a bit of moisture from a filling. A well-constructed sandwich has a balance – the filling adds the flavour and texture, while the bread holds it together without becoming soggy.
Badenoch’s refusal to accept a moist sandwich seems to ignore the very foundation of sandwich culture, where the bread might get a little bit of moisture from, say, a delicious egg mayonnaise or a cucumber. Is she really saying that we, as a nation, should abandon this basic principle in favour of dry, bland bread? That’s not what British sandwiches are about.
The sandwich is a symbol of our national identity. It’s not just lunch – it’s an institution. From packed school lunches to the classic pub sandwich, from the midday snack to the picnic staple, it’s a food that unites us across generations, classes, and cultures. It’s the food that nourished our soldiers in war, kept our workers going during long shifts, and still holds a special place in our hearts today. In short, the sandwich is as British as tea and the Queen.
Kemi Badenoch’s war on sandwiches isn’t just a personal preference – it’s a war on the very things that make Britain great. The practicality, the ingenuity, and the modesty of the sandwich represent something enduring about British culture: resilience in the face of adversity, a sense of community, and a deep-seated appreciation for simple, everyday pleasures.
Perhaps Badenoch should reconsider her stance. Dismissing sandwiches is more than just a culinary misstep – it’s a rejection of the very values that have made this country a symbol of innovation and hard work for centuries. If the Conservatives want to reclaim the hearts and minds of the British public, they should stop railing against sandwiches and start embracing them as the quintessential symbol of British greatness. After all, the sandwich has stood the test of time – and it’s unlikely that anyone, no matter how high up they are in government, can easily dismantle that legacy.