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Good Holy Lord

A chicken kebab or a shish kebab is a wholesome, well-balanced foodstuff that rounds out an evening perfectly and it’s infinitely more appealing than anything that even looks like a beetroot.

The fact is chicken breast or red meat cooked on a grill is perhaps the healthiest way of preparing a kebab. Any excess fat drops into the coals and no calorie-adding oil is needed to aid the cooking process.

So all good then.

Anti-kebabers might point to the weight-inducing carbohydrate from the pitta, but if you can get your local kebab supplier to stock up on some brown pittas then you will have headed carb-hell off at the pass.

The kebab really is the epitome of healthy eating. There’s salad, raw cabbage, tomato, cucumber and, if you are feeling saucy, let the kebab man splash on a bit of homemade chilli sauce. It won’t hurt the digestive process but don’t be surprised if you experience some pain in the back door region in the morning.

Admittedly, the kebab in doner-spec is harder to justify as a healthy meal. The elephant’s leg option does represent a hazardous journey since there is no guarantee that there’s any real meat in it. Still, it’s hard to resist after three pints of low-grade lager even though it’ll clog your heart up like a broken-down Eurotunnel train.

Whatever, my view is the kebab is a food fit for kings and although I simply can’t imagine Prince Charles tucking into a polystyrene trayful of chilli-ed up doner meat after a skinful of Carling Extra Cold, I think he could easily have a go at the entry level kofte following a charity do that has been punctuated by intermittent, yet hearty glugs of Merlot.   

Kebabs aren’t headline delicacies, I accept, but the BBQueue (see what they’ve done there – it’s always packed) in Finsbury Park beats the slop served up by Heston Poshmadeupname any day.