Brie - yond the Grave

Just Passing Through Podcast

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Episode 159
So, I’ve just come back from the UK, right? Honestly, I’ve eaten so much cheese, I’m practically sweating cheddar. I’m talking the full Monty – Brie, Stilton, Red Leicester – the whole cheese board. It’s like I went on a one-man mission to prop up the British dairy industry. You know it’s bad when you have a full English breakfast, and you’re sprinkling cheese on your bacon. I was that guy.

And let me tell you, when you’re not used to it, your stomach goes, "Nah, love, we don’t do this anymore." I’m in Japan, right? Lovely country, great food, but they’re mostly lactose intolerant. This means I’m safe from the dairy demons. You know, the moment I touched down in the UK, it was like my body went, "Well, there’s no lactose intolerance here, is there? Fill your boots!" Before I knew it, I was ordering triple-cheese pizzas like they were going out of fashion.

By the end of it, I was having cheese dreams – and not the good ones where you're floating on a cloud of mozzarella. No, it was like I was being chased by a giant wheel of Wensleydale down a hill, with no escape. It was a cheesy nightmare. But could I stop? No chance! Cheese became my best mate, and I was like, "Just one more slice, come on." Like a junkie, but with cheese.

Anyway, I get back to Japan – and I’m lugging around an extra two kilos of pure cheese weight. I swear to God, if the cheese had any more power over me, I’d have to apply for dual citizenship. The thing is, the Japanese are mostly lactose intolerant – God bless 'em – and thank God for it because if I lived in a country that embraced dairy the way the UK does, I’d be banging on even more than the two kilos I already did. I’d have a dedicated cheese fridge, a fondue fountain in the kitchen, and be mainlining cheddar in the mornings.

But here, in Japan, it’s all rice and fish. Proper food, innit? I’ve never been so happy to see a plate of sushi in my life. It’s like my stomach took a bow and went, “Finally! Some bloody relief!” Honestly, my body feels like it’s been through a traumatic experience – a cheese-induced hostage situation, and it’s only just come out the other side.

And then – wait for it – my old employer here in Japan gets in touch. “Fancy coming back to work?” Coming back?! Mate, you had me stuck in endless meetings with nothing but vending machine coffee and "ganbatte" pep talks. No, ta, pal! The last time I worked there, I nearly lost my mind from the company-wide emails about whose bento smelled like fermented nightmares. I’m not going back to a place where the daily excitement is a new brand of instant ramen in the breakroom. No way, mate, I’ve just survived the cheese apocalypse; I’m not signing up for round two in the land of never-ending overtime.

So here I am, two kilos heavier, recovering from a dairy binge, and politely telling my old boss in Japan to jog on. Japan, thank you for your lactose intolerance. You’ve saved me from a life of cheese addiction and workplace purgatory.
Music:
Kulashaker -Hush
James - Getting Away wit It

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