How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #7 - Call In The Royal Air Force

It's the final day of Rate My Sausage's attempt to win the Nobel Prize for Services To Ridding The World Of Crap Sausages.  We've whacked them, chucked them, dragged them, you name it, but the bloody things have proved extremely difficult to kill.

For our final attempt we call in the world's finest military operation, the Royal Air Force....we hope you have enjoyed our sausage-smashing antics over the last week....

We spied a bunker in the distance.  A bunker made of mashed potato?  And they're flying a German flag!

Closer surveillance revealed some of the inhabitants.  That looks very much like Adolf Shitler to me.  And what an appropriate name for an Iceland sausage.

Let's get him!  We need a sniper and Junior Sidekick boldly stepped up to the mark.

A full magazine of rounds were expended and did some damage.  One of Shitler's henchmen was laid low.  And the bunker didn't like it either.

But that wasn't the outcome we wanted.  Call in the RAF!  Junior Sidekick's boots were given insignia and we were good to go.  Time on target?  About six seconds....

SPLAT!  The airstrike hits the target with deadly accuracy. Mash and Iceland sausages scatter every which way.  Surely this time we have MULLERED the bloody awful Iceland bangers?


The thing to remember is....if there are no Lancasters available, a Wellington or two will do the job just as well.

Oooooh, nasty. There won't be any survivors out of THAT little killing zone.....

DAMMIT!  We were wrong again, and Adolf Shitler survived intact.

The final score is Rate My Sausage 2 Iceland Sausages 5

The conclusion we draw is that you must NEVER buy these foul tubes of mushy crap.  Because if you do, they are almost impossible to dispose of.  Thank you for reading our light-hearted series of banger-busting efforts.  And.....don't have nightmares.

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #6 - Game, Set & Despatch!

Day six.  Can we eliminate Iceland sausages from the landscape?  It appears not. We're 4-1 down and staring down the barrel of the sausage machine....

This time we're trying sport again, and is it possible to thrash an Iceland sausage to smithereens with a tennis racquet? Let play commence....

A forehand thrash from Junior Sidekick.

An unorthodox overhead swipe.

YEEEESSSSSS!  We've damaged the seemingly indestructible Iceland sausage!  OK, it's not a fatal blow, but it's progress nonetheless.

And again, YEEESSSS! We've sliced the end off of one of the disgusting crap-tubes!

But! We found a better way to reduce crap Iceland sausages to nothingness....use the tennis bat as a grater.  OK, it makers a bit of a mess on the strings but the sausage is obliterated!

Grate, grate, grate.  Doing the world a favour JS!

Eventually we got fed up of grating and simply stamped on the bloody things.  Ye gods, look at that artificial skin!  Hideous.  We claim this as a win.

Rate My Sausage 2 Iceland Sausages 4

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #5 - Throw Them Off The Top Of A Multi-Storey Car Park

Day Five.  Rate My Sausage is still trying to kill the bloody awful sausages from frozen food giant Iceland.  Bloody awful is not a negative slant, they really are minging.  This time we're embracing gravity, and height, to our advantage.

Here we are on the top deck of St James multi-storey car park in beautiful downtown King's Lynn.  Nice day for some sight-seeing.  In the distance you can see our flats.  Click on the pic to enlarge the image. Etc.

We're on the open, top level of the award-winning (yes, really) St James car park in Lynn and determined to muller some shite Iceland sausages. And trying to keep a low profile, hence Junior Sidekick covering his face.

It's NOT Junior Sidekick in this picture, OK?  Ahem.

This is my view from the bottom.....looks a bit scary.

Now, of course, you can't randomly throw stuff off the top of a council car park.  The council, and the rozzers, might not like it.  So we came up with the "sight-seeing" plan, involving us supposedly pointing at distant landmarks and simultaneously lobbing shit bangers into the abyss.  Here is the sausage held in a pointing finger Cloak Of Absolute Disguise hold.

There was a brief conversation about trying to bop people with the sausages.  Cycling paramedic would have scored 25....we decided against.

The first banger flies over the parapet.  See it arc gently earthward!

Sadly the plummet didn't seem to have any effect on the crap-sticks whatsoever.  They landed intact.

Every single Iceland sausage emerged completely unscathed. Are they invincible?



This made the score:

Rate My Sausage 1 Iceland Sausages 4



A serious setback.  We thought this would be a winner.  Join us again tomorrow for the next instalment.






With a heavy heart, signing out....

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #4 - Drag And Drop

The struggle to destroy Iceland sausages has so far proved unsuccessful....can we finally put a score in the "Rate My Sausage" column?

The next attempt was simple - we would drag the tubes of cack behind the car and hope that they eroded down to nothingness!

Here we see the three evil bastards tied to the underside of their instrument of torture....a powerful 1.2l Ford Fiesta.  In red.  Take THAT, Iceland!

We enlisted a highly rated local mechanic to carry out the attachment procedure in line with national health & safety law, local government care in the workplace guidelines, and Stan's Garage's "get the bugger done quick, and cheap" ad-line.

OK, it was me....

So what happened?  I think this picture tells the story....we got rid of the vile lumps of ordure!  Last we saw of them was them bouncing around excitedly as we trundled along Tennyson Avenue, and then.....nothing.  We patrolled back up and down twice but could find no evidence of the battered bangers' bodies.  But they were gone, and we are HAVING that one!

Iceland Sausages 3 Rate My Sausage 1

Part Five tomorrow, don't miss it....

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #3 - Crucifixion

Day three of Man Versus Pap, and the pap is 2-0 ahead....

We've resorted to ancient tactics this time, and decided to copy the Romans and their method of getting rid of detritus....nail 'em high and let 'em die!  Crucifixion it is then. 

Surely this method will score a point for the Rate My Sausage team?  Leave meat products outdoors overnight and some foul creature of the night will surely eat the damned things?

First step was to construct several rustic crosses, using twigs found outside and string that had been left outside for two days to hopefully lose its "human habitat" aroma....

The sausages were strung up and planted out at dusk, which attracted rather bemused looks from some onlooking eastern Europeans ("these English, they really crazy are, like they told us before we left Riga!").  Then we retreated indoors to let the night, and its inhabitants, do their job....

And here's what we found the next morning....every "sausage" untouched.  Completely intact.  Not even slightly nibbled.  Bugger it!  Even foxes, hedgehogs, badgers, cats and pigeons For Gods Sake, refused to touch the Iceland sausages.  At least it shows how artificial they must be.

Another defeat for RMS makes the score after three rounds :

Iceland Sausages 3 Rate My Sausage 0

Join us again tomorrow, sports fans!

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #2 - Hit It With A Cricket Bat

We're trying to find ways to kill the disgusting-beyond-belief Iceland sausages.  Yesterday we rolled them off the roof, but the buggers didn't break.  Today we're taking the Young Ones route - hit 'em with a cricket bat!

Our opener was Junior Sidekick, right hander, middle and off please umpire.  Sausage enters picture at the top, JS hefts the willow....

A swing and a miss as the yanks say.  Sausage hits the deck bottom left corner while Junior Sidekick turns himself into a human corkscrew courtesy of the bat's momentum....half time and the ruddy sausages are ahead....

Next up is Slugger O'What-A-Toole.  Sticking out his tongue and gurning wildly, Slugger goes for the gap on the on side....

It's six and out as the sausage arcs gorgeously over the park boundary and onto the railway lines, just in front of the 1456 to King's Cross!  Sensing a win, by six runs, the Rate My Sausage team again swap high fives but come crashing down to earth as the umpire unusually rules "ungentlemanly legwear".


Defeat over the utterly crap Iceland sausage has been snatched from the jaws of victory.  Chav-style.


Iceland Sausages 2 Rate My Sausage 0.

How To Kill An Iceland Sausage #1 - Roll It Off A High Roof

We've all been there...you try a new sausage, hate it, an decide to eliminate it and its mates.  And so it was that we have been carrying out sausacide (sausagey genocide) on Iceland "sausages".  Our first method was to roll them off the roof of our flats and hope they splat to pieces....

And so, up in the lift we ascend to do our blessed duty on behalf of sausage lovers everywhere....

Find a suitable spot to cast the ghastly bangers to their (we hope) earthly crash-landing site.

It's a fair way down, surely that drop will be enough to kill these vile tubes of pap?

And here they are, the evil swine, still brazenly displaying their artificial cooking stripes.  Ooooh, makes me soooo mad!

Fourth floor, so 15 metres up maybe?  

Bombs gone!  Unfortunately sausage number one lands on a raised skylight....

Number two (and I can hardly think of a better name for an Iceland sausage) goes the same way and the wretched articles repose side by side....

Number three does the same!  Despite our aiming to avoid obstacles these cowardly lumps doggedly cling to safety like tagnuts to a sheep's woolly arse....

But then, finally, success, and a sausage bounces down the slate and plummets over the precipice!  High fives all round.  Surely the damned thing will be a puddle of pork-lite plop when we find it!

No.  Fifteen metres is obviously not enough to kill these artificial monstrosities....lurking in the undergrowth we found Target Four, completely unscathed.


Iceland 1 Rate My Sausage 0.


Join us tomorrow for the second part of this series, "How To Kill An Iceland Sausage".

Iceland - Everywhere - Sausage

Our quest to review every sausage on the planet (yes, it’s im possible) sometimes leads us to large-scale retailers who can sometimes offer questionable sausages.  This week Dad’s been to Iceland, where we picked up a bag of FORTY sausages for TWO pounds.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Can a sausage that costs five pence really be any good?  You’d think not.

Iceland is a massive chain of frozen goods shops selling low-cost products on a huge scale.  Also much beloved by celebrities.  Well, "a" "celebrity".  Kerry Katona.  Oh dear.

My tasting notes, such as they are, read:

Meat Content:

Is there any?

Flavour:

Minimal.  Like eating wallpaper paste.

Texture:

Mush.  Skin hardens unpleasantly but encapsulates the squishy crap inside.

Now, while I feel that these descriptions do actually do this foul product justice, I need to elaborate.  These are The Most Disgusting “Sausages” That It Has Been My Misfortune To Taste.  Ever.  More foul than Miss Rhode Island Red UK 2013.  Less good taste than Peter Griffin after fourteen Pawtuckets.  As nausea-inducing as watching Lorraine Kelly pole dancing while riding on Great Yarmouth Rollercoaster, simultaneously drinking Malibu and Tia Maria and thinking about sex with Madonna.  Absolutely disgusting, in every way.

There is probably a worse sausage on sale somewhere (and if you know of one please tell us) but it would have to be absolutely, utterly cosmically shite.  The taste, such as exists, is all salt with no other flavour discernible.  The texture is not texture as such, merely plop. And the meat content is ridiculously, taking-the-piss low.  The worst sausage.  Abysmal multiplied by pathetic to the power of cack.

Shrinkage: 

Average weight uncooked - 33g

Average weight cooked - 28g

Shrinkage - 14%

Weighed the least, each, ever!  By some margin.  But then the main ingredient, namely “feck all”, weighs next to nothing.  The shrink figure of 14% regretfully scores high in our famously idiosyncratic points system, but the reason these bangers haven’t shrunk much is that there’s almost nothing natural in them to shrink.

Value For Money:

40 sausages cost £2.00.  Obviously I didn’t cook them all, so here are the stats, intrapolated (is that the correct antonym of extrapolate?)....

£0.40 for eight sausages, weighing 265g - this works out as a price of £1.51 per kg, or 5p per snorker.

Evan at 5p each this is catastrophically bad value for money. Avoid at all costs.

Through A Child’s Eyes:

Junior Sidekick didn’t taste this particular glimpse of hell but he can offer some insight.  He was at a friend’s house for tea recently and bangers and mash was served.  On the way home I asked how it was and he wasn’t very positive....and then he lowered his voice a la Les Dawson/Roy Barraclough old ladies sketch and whispered “They were ICELAND sausages”, in that tone which said “They were bloody awful Dad.”

The Imaginatively Titled Next Day Cold Sausage Test:

The pics show the Iceland embarrassments on the left alongside some real sausages.  Please draw your own conclusions.

Opening Hours:

If Sri Lanka used to be Ceylon, and Myanmar used to be Burma, what did Iceland used to be? Bejam.

Iceland is open at the usual big retailer times, can’t be arsed to promote them and their disgraceful excuses for sausages.

And Finally, Esther:

If you want to experience the Very Bottom Of The Sausage Barrel then buy some.  If you are not a masochist then don’t bother.  Disgusting.