This oily, gritty, white puke is disgusting. Even a splash of it renders a cup of tea useless, carpet-bombing the subtle flavours with its crusty granular blandness. It’s the same thing Superman tastes when someone spikes his chips with kryptonite. If I saw anyone putting soya milk in my tea, when I made the next round I’d put my own little cocktail of sewer rags, iron-filings and phlegm in theirs. Then when they complained or went into seizure, I’d say, “Oh sorry, I was just following your lead by putting the most revolting substance I possibly could into your tea,” then walk out, slam the door and never return.
None of the arguments in favour of this chalky spew make any sense at all.
For instance, if you have a severe lactose intolerance then why would you want soya milk? Surely it would remind you Pavlovian-style of the first time your swollen tongue choked you, and you were suddenly covered in hundreds of boils. You could enjoy delicious black Earl Grey instead of white tea, and have orange juice on your cereal. There’s a million different ways you can live a full and active life and never even nearly come into contact with milk, so why bother with some vile approximation that seems to have been synthesised in a chemical weapons factory by a man with no tongue?
Other more reprehensible people say they don’t drink normal milk to be kind to cows. Producing milk is a cow’s job and whole raison d’etre. What else are they gonna do? If they were not producing milk they’d be straight down the abattoir and pulped into meat, leather, chewy sweets and nail varnish. No decent person would stop a cow from producing milk, just as they wouldn’t stop a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman from selling vacuum cleaners to terrified old women so he’d be free to sit around and watch helplessly as his whole life slid into the shit bin.
Words by Jack Savidge