As a party of five (my parents were there, too) we had some hastily-muttered conversations between us: should we say something?
Maybe we could just not eat anything. Would we look weird? Would they be angry? Would they shoot and eat us, as grass-fed prime cuts of meat?
I decided to grasp the nettle, and walked into the kitchen, where our host was pulling a cheese-laden pizza from
the oven.
‘Erhaha I er have a confession to make⊒
‘Oh, yes?’ said our host. ‘What’s that?’
‘Um, you know that joke about how do you know if someone’s veganâŠ? We er⊠We forgot to tell you.’
They were very nice about it. And fortunately, had invited another neighbour, who made a significant dent in the food. They’d clocked us as vegetarians, but hadn’t twigged we were vegan.
I managed to shut down the inevitable debate, perhaps a little forcefully, when one of our hosts offered his Hot Take on Veganism:
‘Right. My thing with veganism, yeah, is this. Why would you choose, right, not to experience everything?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’ve never experienced strangling a hiker, but I don’t really feel like it’s the best idea⊒
He er. He piped down after that.
I do sometimes find it a bit debasing to be all apologetic for my veganism. But I’ve always maintained that a charm offensive is the best way to get the non-vegans onside. You know. A bit of appreciation of the awkwardness of it. A smile and a joke or two. Just remember: the old ones are the best.
*This was modified by the brilliant Kate Emmett of the (vegan) Jesmond Cake Company, who drily observed ‘How do you know if someone knows a joke about vegans? Wait five minutes and they’ll tell you’.
Source: Veganlifemag.com
