Kim Kardashian’s done it, the dress has done, even an egg has done it – and, now a humble sausage has broken the internet, too. Personally, I could’ve gone to my grave a happy woman having never heard the words ‘Love Sausage’ used side by side. But there’s the life you wish for and then the life you get.
Emotions were running high on Thursday evening, following the announcement of M&S’s cursed Valentine’s Day meal. But in the cold light of day, the reality of the retailer’s novelty dish is far less appealing.
Akin to the stages of grief, here are the seven stages of the Love Sausage heartbreak.
1. Realising you’re going to have to eat it before Valentine’s Day
A humble zoom on the candid pictures emerging on social media will reveal one particularly jarring truth:
Let’s inspect that a little more closely...
That’s right, there are a number of Love Sausages expiring before the 14th. And you can’t take risks with pork. You gotta eat that sausage as a regular meal, alone and before Valentine’s Day.
2. Discovering what it looks like in its natural state
It’s verging on NSFW.
3. Being totally put off your breakfast
Not everyone is going to want to consume their love sausage first thing. But Twitter user @MerseyMal pointed out there’s a way to repurpose your Love Sausage for lunch or dinner by getting experimental with the filling.
4. Turning to art in times of trouble
Processing the news, freelance journalist Hannah Rose Woods was moved to poetry, penning a 14-liner about love and sausages.
5. Trying to work out if you can better the original
I thought we agreed to forget about this. But Twitter user John, filled with inspiration, decided to make his own. To be fair, he’s done a good job at recreating it, even though it’s still a bit distressing.
6. The knowledge that they’re, like, actually selling out
And starting to wonder whether you should’ve got in on it, or if you still have the chance. But also, are people buying it as a joke, or a genuine, heartfelt romantic gesture? What does this say about the state of society, of consumerism, and more broadly, of love? I’m getting existential.
7. Deciding you’d probably rather not look at it at all.
And just slapping it in a sarnie. Maybe a metaphor about love looking like different things to different people, or something.