Gary, whenever I order food in a restaurant, a chip barm, a toasted sandwich....ANYTHING, I have to in no uncertain terms stress to the waiter/waitress that I will not tolerate butter or marg even being near where my food is being prepared.
You see, if I get a sarnie in the morning in the cafe, I know that previously, they will have used a knife to slice through someone elses sandwich which will be covered in butter, so there will be butter on that knife. I make them use a different knife to slice my buttie, but because I go there every day though, they know about my weirdness when it comes to butter so they're sympathetic, but I get looked at like I'm a freak in other places when I'm explaining this to them that I hate butter.
They're like "What, you just have dry toast?" or "What? No butter? NO BUTTER? ARE YOU MAD?" it infuriates me to be honest, that I'm questioned because I hate the yellow shit, but to me, it's perfectly normal to want the vomit inducing spread as far as possible away from me.
Believe me, you cannot comprehend how much I hate this stuff. Have you ever read 1984, particularly the chapter towards the end where they make the main character Winston go to Room 101? If I was to be damned forever in a hell known as Room 101, put me in an empty room which was full of butter. I would have to go a long way to imagine anything worse than that fate.




If you don't know what French toast is by the way (I had to go to America to find out) it's basically Eggy bread but I do it with a bit of flour in the mix, a touch of milk and some ground Cinnamon and some shavings of Nutmeg. It's delisioso! 