Death for no reason

I was a vegetarian for the five impressionable years of 16 to 21, talked into it by Consolidated and The Smiths. By the summer after university I realised I'd forgotten why I didn't eat meat, so on holiday in Prague I went to a Kentucky Fried Chicken. It was filthy gluttonous greasy, a dirty rush, bloated and shameful and thrilling, knowing it was wrong - or it ought to be so, according to some moral code I ought to follow but didn't. As fun as wanking off about your sister.

I recounted this just now to a clean-skinned and enthusiastic Australian "climate change activist" but he looked at me uncomprehendingly and without humour told me "You know, giving up meat is the number one thing you can do to reduce the damage you do the environment."