Lawrence Dallaglio, Dallaglio by Sacla' Bolognese Sauce

The jars in the Dallaglio by Sacla' range feature the ugly mug of Lawrence (I'm not too worried about Lawrence knocking down my door, given that rugby's seemingly designed to leave participants with cauliflower ears, gap-strewn smiles and, in the case, of our erstwhile leader, partial blindness), alongside his father Vincenzo, who shall henceforth be referred to as Papa Dallaglio, because I'm in a lazy, stereotyping mode.

I went to a rugby-playing school and I had to de-spectacle when we did rugby in games lessons, and, to cut a long story short(-sighted), I couldn't see too well. Having said that, I'm not sure there's actually anything more to that story. Anyway, I think we can say for certain that it was only my myopia that prevented me from having a professional rugby career.

I've always found it jarring when the brutish play of the game is followed by post-match interviews with well-spoken, intelligent players, contrasting with the cliche-riddled inanities of football players. It's also interesting that football has a burgeoning metrosexualism, while rugby has long had an aura of homoeroticism. And yet rugby only has one openly-gay professional in the warmly received Gareth Thomas. Football had Justin Fashanu. Who was ostracised. And hanged himself. Way to go, football!

In my extensive research into big LD (read: I read his Wikipedia page) I discovered that the greatest thing he ever did (worth a two point mark-up) was to sing in the choir on Tina Turner's panpipe-laden power ballad classic We Don't Need Another Hero from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. I'm surprised no-one razzed him with this by playing it instead of Land of Hope & Glory before the kick-off, perhaps on the entirely hypothetical Matt Dawson's World Cup Wind-Ups.



I'd like to think I'm fairly well acquainted with the range of pesto from Sacla', but I never realised before reviewing this that they have a crazy apostrophe at the end of their name. I've no idea what it's there for (the name's an acronym for the Societa Anonima Commercio Lavorazione Alimentari, roughly, the Anonymous Society of the Food Processing Trade, hmmmm) so I like to think it's there just because they bloody well felt like it. I wholeheartedly support this practice, as I view a name as an abstraction and, as such, Sacla' and the B-52's should be allowed to punctuate their names as they please, if only to get the goats of Trussites everywhere.



In their bolognese sauce, Lawrence and Papa Dallaglio have put a glug of Barbera wine (glug being an SI unit, with the standard held in Geneva, Switzerland). Now I'm teetotal, but I'm not bothered by a bit of alcohol in my food. It's not like it's a purity issue for me, as it is with straight-edge types who have "poison-free" tattooed on their chests, apparently unaware of the irony. I did call myself straight-edge for about a week before I realised it was too much effort explaining what the ruddy term meant to people.

I don't know what the person who wrote the label was on, as they recommend using as measly 100g of mince, I found I had to double that. Other than that though, I've not got much to complain about it. It's got a nice, rich flavour, and the chunks of tomato add a rustic quality that puts it in a different league from glorified tomato purees from the likes of Dolmio.

Lawrence Dallaglio: 8/10
Bolognese sauce: 8/10
Total: 16/20

Loyd Grossman Carrot & Coriander Soup/Sicilian Style Tomato & Chilli with Pine Nuts & Raisins

Last time I reviewed a Loyd Grossman product I spoke about his tenure as Through The Keyhole presenter. He was also famous for presenting Masterchef from 1990 to 2000. Hands up though, I don't feel I remember it sufficiently. However, I am familiar with the current 'Goes Large'-era, so much so that I applied to go on the new series of Celebrity MasterChef*. I have to say I was flabbergasted when they turned me down. I'm a much loved blogger, hits on five continents, I said, waving Google Analytics data in their faces. New Zealand! Egypt! Vietnam! VIETNAM! They were having none of it. It's a shame, as here's what they missed out on. BLOGGING DOESN'T GET TOUGHER THAN THIS!

India Fisher: Ed has been sat on his backside for six hours.

John Torode: What are your three dishes, Ed?

Me: I'm doing Loyd Grossman Carrot and Coriander soup with a bread roll for starters followed by pasta with Loyd Grossman Sicilian Style Tomato & Chilli with Pine Nuts & Raisin pasta sauce.

Gregg Wallace: And for dessert?

Me: Based on my survey of Sainsbury's, that's an area of the market seemingly untapped by Loyd, so I'm making nothing.

Gregg: We know Ed's a celebrated blogger. He's got a lot of taste sensations to work with. Can he make them conspire to pleasure us?

John: I like a good Carrot & Coriander soup, I like a good bread roll. But together? I'm not sure it's a combination that can work.

Gregg: What about the pasta main course? Last time Ed let Loyd down with his presentation. Will he do it again?

John: I like paaaahhsta, I like paaaahhsta stauce. But together? I'm not sure it's a combination that can work.

Gregg: No dessert? It's a risk, a big, big risk.

John: How many times have we seen no dessert on this show? And how many times is it done badly? Can Ed do it right?

Me: I really want to cook them some food, and then for them to eat it, and tell me about it. If I can do that all while offering some bland soundbites, then I can go home happy.


John: Times up, guys.

India Fisher: For a starter, Ed has prepared Loyd Grossman Carrot and Coriander soup with a bread roll.

Gregg: IT'S CARROTY, IT'S CORIANDERY, IT'S SOUPY. I LIKE IT A LOT.

John: The spice of the coriander contrasts with the sweetness of the carrot, and then you've got the bread roll which helps soak up some of the soup. I'm really surprised it works.

India Fisher: His main course is pasta with Loyd Grossman Sicilian Style Tomato & Chilli with Pine Nuts & Raisin pasta sauce.

Gregg: WHAAAARRRRR. That's got a kick! IT'S TOMATOEY, IT'S CHILLI-EY, IT'S PASTA-EY. I LIKE IT A LOT.

John: You get the solidness of the paaaahhsta contrasting with the wetness of the paaaahhsta sauce. I'm really surprised it works.

Nadia Sawalha: You've cooked the pasta really really really well.

Me: Don't patronise me, this isn't Junior MasterChef.

Loyd Grossman: I like how juicy sun ripe tomatoes and fiery chillies are complemented by the pine nuts and raisins in this sauce.

Me: Too bloody right you do, Loyd. It says so on the jar.

Gregg: It does look like it's just been slopped on the plate though. Once again you've been let down by your presentation.

India Fisher: His dessert is nothing.

Gregg: IT WASN'T OOZEY, IT WASN'T BOOZY, IT WASN'T GOOEY. I DoN'T LIKE IT AT ALL.

John: The paucity of anything contrasts badly with the dearth of something. I could have done with at least a sorbet to cleanse the palate.

Gregg: We've made our decision....

John: The winner is.....

Gregg: Former soap star.

John: Ed, ageing popstar, British athlete who once placed 6th in an Olympic final, I'm afraid you're going home.

Me: GENERIC POSITIVE COMMENT IN SPITE OF DEFEAT



To be honest, the chillis made the pasta sauce a little too fiery for my liking.

Loyd Grossman: 8/10
Carrot & Coriander Soup: 7.5/10, Sicilian Style Tomato & Chilli: 5.5/10, Average: 6.5/10
Total: 14.5/20


*I may or may not be making this up.

Victoria Pendleton, Hovis Wholemeal Bread

Just like previous COP reviewee Chris Hoy, Victoria Pendleton is a cyclist, but unlike Hoy, she is more than a cyclist, she is a hot cyclist. This is news to the world, which had long thought that women only take part in athletics and tennis. In fact, if Vicky were a tennis player, she'd be featured on hotfemaletennisplayers.blogspot.com. I know, that sounds like a blog I've made up for the purposes of a joke, but click the link and, lo and behold, you'll see it isn't. You'll also see that their criteria for hot female tennis players seems to be 'female' and 'plays tennis', but I suppose if, like Douglas Quaid in Total Recall, your preference is for athletic women, then all female tennis players are hot. Due to Britain's lack of elite female tennis players, us shallow male sports fans have to be thankful for the likes of Pendleton and heptathlete Kelly Sotherton, who is attractive in spite of because of her navel deficit.

Anyway I better derail this post's journey into my latent sexism. I felt sorry for Pendleton when she only got one gold medal in Beijing. Just the one. Poor her. Had she won that gold in Atlanta, she'd have received an instant damehood, but in Beijing her gold got lost among our glut of them while three golds meant Hoy emerged as a great British Olympian (Goodbye Chris, Hello Sir Chris!). Given that they ride in the same disciplines, Pendleton should have won three as well, but only one of those was an Olympic event for women. Thankfully parity will be achieved in 2012, though unfortunately at the expense of some men's disciplines. Why this needs to be done eludes me when there are seemingly countless distances for each discipline in swimming (Hey! The guy who's best at swimming the individual medley over 200m is the best at swimming the individual medlery over 400m! What a coincidence!) Furthermore, the relative paucity of cycling events makes no sense at all given that bikes are rad, as any German-speaker will tell you.

Victoria's success perplexes me to some extent. I mean, look at the thighs on the Dutch girl! She'll never beat her.....she'll never beat her.....oh she has done.



As part of this promotion, Hovis dressed Victoria up as Holly Golightly from Breakfast At Tiffany's, I guess because they're playing on the 'Breakfast' bit even though Audrey Hepburn always looked like she'd skipped a fair few (unless I'm much mistaken and it's actually a reference to Deep Blue Something).

Over at the Hovis website Victoria (read: someone else) gives us a bunch of breakfast recipes running the gamut from stuff on toast to this 'n' that on toast to thingamajig surprise (spoiler alert: the surprise is toast). Her favourite recipe is peanut butter and banana on toast, a combination which has proven dangerously divisive amongst some of my friends. It's not one that I'm particularly in favour of either, given that I'm probably allergic to bananas. I say 'probably' as it's not like I'm in the habit of eating bananas by the bunchload just to confirm this.

Anyway, bread, bread, what is there to be said about bread? When I was younger and we had picnics as a family, I would have peanut butter sandwiches on wholemeal bread, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't allowed a drink until after I'd finished them, which is enough to instil Arachibutyrophobia in anyone. In hindsight I figure this was partly down to the bread being the bog standard Safeway brand (scrimping on bread is a small price to pay if it goes a little way towards meaning you can go to Disney World). Fortunately, now I don't have this problem, partly because Safeway got gobbled up by Morrison's (I guess their way of business was not sufficiently safe), but mainly because I can have as much water as I want, and as a result my peanut butter sandwiches with Hovis bread go down pretty well.


Victoria Pendleton: 7/10
Hovis Wholemeal Bread: 7.5/10
Total: 14.5/20

David Beckham, Young's Admiral's Pie/Mariner's Pie

When I first saw these fish pies in my local supermarket, I was expecting this post to be in part about how Brand Beckham is so powerful that it can sell products even though he isn't at the World Cup, but he is, in his role as 'player liaison'. But what is he for, David Beckham: Player Liaison (not to be confused with Van Wilder: Party Liaison)? I haven't seen him liaising much during matches, so I can only assume he carries out this role in the England 'camp', though I wouldn't know as I switch my concentration off when we get reports on what's being going on there, be it from Gabby Logan on BBC or Gabriel Clarke on ITV (I do quite like how these correspondents have corresponding boy/girl names, and actively encourage this policy be used extensively by the two broadcasters - I look forward to a Chris/Adriana combo being employed on The One Show).

The main role we actually see Becks playing at the World Cup is that of iconic player-as-visual representation of how all England fans are feeling, as employed regularly throughout England's matches by the broadcasters. For the non-football fan looking to assimilate into the national hysteria, it's the equivalent of 'LAUGH' and 'APPLAUD' signs used for studio audiences - just copy the facial expression and body language of Becks and you too can look as emotionally invested in this circus as the deluded loons surrounding you! England aren't the only team to be employing someone in this role - Argentina made theirs manager.

As a teenage England fan, like many others I came to hate Becks for his childish act at France '98. By the time he completed his redemption (against Greece, 2001), I had largely stopped caring about the England football team, and now objected to him as one half of Posh and Becks. I found their level of celebrity too much to stomach. Alistair McGowan and Ronni Ancona kept their careers going off the back of David and Victoria, despite the fact they were both positively crap at impersonating them. The nadir came when Brand Beckham tried to break America in 2003, and failed, not realising that actually having something to promote might have helped. It was America's loss, as I'm sure Dane Bowers would've used it as a springboard to launch his assault on Yank senses. However, just as his absence from the England XI has made the country's hearts grow fonder, I've mellowed towards Becks over recent years.

I was mildly perplexed to see him endorsing these fish pies, and to be honest, I'd much rather have had scampi, but it turns out there's good reason Becks is a Fish Pie Liaison too. Young's have teamed up with GO3 (endorsed by Becks) to boost the Omega-3 content of some of their range. On the boxes, Becks says:

"Dinner is a family time for me and my favourite meal of the day. Fish pies are great to share, and with GO3 there is an easy and tasty way to get Omega-3 into the family too.

Now, whenever I see the quote the celebrity, I always like to play a little game: Celebrity or Copywriter. My scientific method in playing this game is to imagine the celebrity actually saying those words - if it sounds natural in their voice, then I conclude celebrity (even though I suspect the answer may almost universally be copywriter). So, with Loyd Grossman, even across such an extensive range of products, the words always convey an erudition that befits the Grossman persona. Even with Chris Hoy, the quote gels with the 'marginal gains' mentality of Team GB. However, when I read this 'quote' from Becks, I can only imagine him reading it in a stilted manner that is characteristic of his endorsements. So I can conclude without a shadow of a doubt: Copywriter. I can only hope you have as much fun playing this game in future as I do.

I'm pretty sure Omega-3 was only discovered like 5 or 6 years ago, because when I was younger and my mum served us fish-in-a-bag, the packaging made no mention of it. Now it's bloody everywhere. And if you were thinking that Omega-3 sounds like something from science fiction, it's probably because if you change the number, it is:



Reminding me of Galaxy Quest is no bad thing because Galaxy Quest is actually a better Star Trek film than the official ones, and anything that gets Tim 'The Tool Man' Taylor, Ellen Ripley, Severus Snape, Adrian Monk, Warren Cheswick, Keith Mars, Susan Ross, Dwight Schrute and Squeak Scolari all in one place deserves your love.

When I was younger I was turophobic. Maybe that's a bit strong, I wasn't afraid of cheese, I just didn't like it really. Don't worry, I (along with almost all cheese-haters as I found out) am and have always been pro-pizza. These days I'd class myself as more of a mild cheeseskeptic (that is mildly skeptical towards cheese, not skeptic of just mild cheese), so I'd have to say I'm more enamoured of the Mariner's Pie (creamy parsley sauce with sweetcorn) than the Admiral's Pie (creamy butter sauce with cheddar cheese). Given that the fish is Pollock, I'd quite like to fast bowl one pie while flicking forkfuls of the other at a canvas (or perhaps combine the two in a manner akin to Michael Vaughan). If it were Haddock I'd be referencing a beardy Tintin character, but if it were cod I'd have to resort to making a James Pond 2: Codename Robocod reference. That or some awful puns of my own. Just thank cod you didn't have to put up with that.

David Beckham: 6/10
Mariner's Pie: 6.5/10, Admiral's Pie: 4.5/10 (Average: 5.5/10)
Total: 11.5/20

Lionel Messi/Didier Drogba/Fernando Torres, Pepsi Max

What is it with football? Unlike cyclists, who endorse foodstuffs like Bran Flakes (Chris Hoy) or Hovis Wholemeal (Victoria Pendleton - COP review forthcoming), football likes to associate itself with junk. You'd think that the effect of footballers endorsing healthier foods would be much greater than that of endorsing products that everybody likes already. Thus, I can't quite fathom why the footballing authorities and footballers themselves are so much in thrall to these mega-rich multinationals.

Even when I was a young lad, footballers would do more honourable things, like sometime-Phantom of the Opera lookalike Gary Mabbutt appearing in mid-nineties CBBC magical realist masterpiece The Queen's Nose...



...which tangentially leads me to my...

Close Encounters of the Queen's Nose Kind:
1. When I worked at a well-known fast food restaurant, the dad from the Queen's Nose once came in to eat. He is also lovingly remembered for voicing Marvin, the Paranoid Android, in the TV and radio series of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

2. When I went on a skiing trip to France with my school, Harmony from the Queen's Nose was on the ferry there and back, going on a skiing trip with her school. She is also lovingly remembered for appearing in Jonathan Creek that one time and those adverts for Wrigley's sponsoring Hollyoaks.



Anyway, the accompanying Mega-advert for this promotion features a number of stars playing a game on a pitch outlined by Africans. Now, these Africans might look willing to do this, but I'm pretty certain that letting a load of black people form the bounds of the pitch for a bunch of multi-millionaires amounts to slavery.

There's not much to say about our trio of endorsers beyond their footballing talents, but it's perplexing that Frank Lampard hasn't been selected for the UK market, what with his blossoming romance with Christine Bleakley, the doyenne of early evening magazine shows (just look at Live From Studio Five - they need two women to fill her role). By the way, Frank, I understand and share your pain at losing a parent at a premature age, but I don't think you need to dedicate every goal to your mum - give her some rest, will you?

Now, when it comes to Pepsi or Coca-Cola, I don't really have any strong feelings either way. I'm pretty sure you'd agree though that the pecking order for either is

1. glass bottle
2. can
3. 500ml plastic bottle/top of 2l plastic bottle
4. bottom of 2l plastic bottle

And what about Coke on tap, you ask? Given its variable in-house mixture of concentrated syrup and carbonated water, often with some residue of Fanta/Tango/Sprite/7-Up/Sprunt thrown in, I think it's a bit of a stretch to call the stuff Pepsi or Coca-Cola.

So, I'd have to say that the Pepsi Max was not nearly as nice as the glass bottles of Pepsi Raw (made from all-natural ingredients) that I bought with it in a multi-buy offer. I'm not entirely sure whether this superiority is resultant from the natural kola nut flavour, or whether it is this glass bottle effect. On this point, currently featuring in the Uneven Geographies exhibition at Nottingham Contemporary is Cildo Meireles' Coca-Cola Project, glass bottles of Coke which he had printed slogans and then reintroduced into circulation. My overriding response was to want a nice cold bottle myself. I'm pretty sure that's not the correct reaction.



Lionel Messi: 8/10, Didier Drogba: 6/10, Fernando Torres: 7/10 (average 7/10)
Pepsi Max: 6.5/10
Total: 13.5/10

Peter Crouch, Pringoooals

Peter Crouch, professional gangly robot dancer and sometime footballer, once said that if he weren't a footballer, he'd be a virgin. He's probably right - I don't believe that guys who do the robot get laid all too often. I expect though that the day that a robot is created that can successfully dance the 'human' is the day that we, as a species, have to accept our new subservient future. In fact, it may have already happened, and these androids have flooded our dancefloors. Be afraid, be very afraid!

Anyway, I apologise, this blog is meant to be about celebrities and the food they endorse, and, as such, this kind of conspiracy theorising would only be apt if someone like Jim Corr were to endorse some food (Jim Corr's New World Hors D'Oeuvres?)

So, back to Crouchy. At the 2006 World Cup, Crouch was dating quintessential WAG Abigail Clancy, before he dumped her by fax, which puts him in the exalted company of Phil Collins (however much Phil tries to deny it). Clancy went on to date Jason Statham for a bit, which does not work in Crouchy's favour here, as no-one compares to the Stath (Jase, if you plan to endorse any food - Oxo Lock, Stock cubes perhaps - you can be sure to get full marks from me). However, not only are Crouch and Clancy back together, they are engaged, ensuring that Clancy will finally be able to progress from the G-faction to the W-faction.

Abbey was once in a pop group called The Genie Queen, managed by Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark singer/bassist Andy McCluskey (Andy, you could also expect to get full marks from me - Granola Gay bars?) We are only left to assume that it was due to having such a shit name for a pop group that they never had an ounce of the success of McCluskey's previous pet project, Atomic Kitten (actually, scratch what I said before, Andy, I'd find it hard to stomach giving the man who gave the world Kerry Katona much more than half marks).

While it's hard to argue against Crouch's superb games-per-goal ratio of 1.85 for England, it's undoubtedly his goal-celebrating antics that led him to front the Pringles attempt to get a piece of the World Cup pie, as evidenced in this advert (with Anelka, Kuyt and Fabregas presumably thrown in to appeal to the international market)....



Furthermore, the Original and Salt & Vinegar flavour tubes both reference Crouch's robot. The Texas BBQ Sauce tube features Crouch holding a corner flag kebab skewer of red onion, tomato, pepper and Pringles (I hope this is not a serving suggestion - I'm not sure actually barbecuing Pringles is the best idea), while the Sour Cream & Onion tube has Crouch kicking into a Sour Cream dip while a groundskeeper pushes a Sour Cream lawnmower in the background. I have no idea what this is meant to signify, but I'm sure Jim Corr knows a thing or two about the Sour Cream Illuminati.

Cite the Gary Lineker/Walker's precedent all you want, I'm not convinced crisps are the best thing for a footballer to be endorsing. Not that Pringles are crisps, mind, but, as the packaging tells us, a 'savoury snack'. The distinction is clear - lawyers once successfully argued that the 42% potato content of Pringles was not sufficient for them to be called crisps, and the snack was exempted from VAT for a period. It makes you feel a little shortchanged though when potato is fleshed out with so much flour.

When I eat Pringles, I tend to eat a load in one sitting, but afterwards I'm left with a general feeling of dissatisfaction. I guess they're like heroin. Or masturbation. My favourite flavour though: Sour Cream & Onion. Least favourite? Salt & Vinegar. A little too sharp for my liking.

Peter Crouch: 6/10
Pringles: 5/10
Total 11/20

Paul Newman, Newman's Own One Two Thousand Island Dressing

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