Bacon c 7,000 BC - AD 2007

Wage-earners are facing the knowledge they will no longer be able to bring home the bacon, following news that humanity's favourite cured pork product has been singled out for condemnation by the World Cancer Research Fund.

Bacon is thought to have been conceived over 9,000 years ago when a Near Eastern pig farmer tucked into a bit of fatty back meat from his newly-domesticated charges and thought, "This is nowhere near unhealthy enough ... what I need to do is add a whole heap of salt to it and then stick it above the fire to absorb as many carcinogens as possible". What happened to that pig farmer after he made his great discovery remains unknown: some say he died of clogged arteries, some say he died of hypertension, while others claim that his foolish decision to slap a piece of his new-created "Bacon" between two slices of well-buttered bread, thus creating the legendary "Bacon Sarnie" led to him being crushed by a mob of weak-willed vegetarians with a sudden uncontrollable yen for meaty not-so-goodness.

Soon most of humanity was happily bunging bits of pork in vast piles of salt and then slipping it into the chimney, little realising that in doing so they were paving the path for their descendants' anxious journeys to the doors of their cardiologists and oncologists (or, in the case of their American descendants, the even more anxious journey to a lawyer to see if there was any way of getting their health insurance to actually pay out for those cardiologists and oncologists). Only the Jews and the Muslims managed to stand firm against Bacon's savoury allure, the latter group doubtless aided in their resolution by the fact that Islam's prohibition on alcohol meant they never had need of a post-hangover fry-up.

It was in the British Isles, however, that Bacon found its greatest success, becoming - alongside ham - the favourite meat of Britons, who loved it so much they even named leading philosophers and painters after it. In the hands of Brits, Bacon found itself happily nestling alongside sausages or beneath eggs, combining crunchily with broad beans, spicing up smoked eel, braising beautifully with cabbage, giving piquancy to bacon and onion pie and giving spice to many a soup.

All the more distressing then that we should now learn that the mere sight of a single salty sliver of this magnificent meat means certain death (the World Cancer Research Funds survey having conclusively proved that eating bacon is completely incompatible with immortality). With the news that, in its hour of need, the leading defender of a rasher of unsmoked best back turned out to be celebrity gnome impersonator and alleged celebrity chef Anthony Worrall Thompson, Bacon was out of the frying pan and into the fires of eternity.

Bacon will be cremated next Tuesday in front of a large congregation armed with bottles of tomato ketchup and slices of bread. The readings will be from Luke 8:26-39, the casting out of the Gadarene Swine, and Dave 8.30-9am, the preparing of the Gadarene Barbeque.

Bacon will be buried alongside processed meat, red meat, salt, energy-dense foods, sugary drinks and having any kind of fun at all. It is survived by the mung bean.

The Sandwich c.1760-2007

The Sandwich, that quick and filling meal that has sustained day-trippers, office workers, students and lazy busy men and women for nearly 250 years has curled up at the corners and passed on to the Great Bin in the Sky with the news that many pre-packed sandwiches contain more salt than a Roman centurion’s bank account.

It was the 4th Earl of Sandwich who, in the 1760s, first placed some cold meat between two pieces of bread to sustain him, either - according to reliable sources - during his marathon cribbage sessions at the gaming table, or - according to less reliable sources - as he worked through the night on important government business at his desk, or even - according to sources whose reliability is on a par with national rail timetables or Jenson Button's Honda - because his wife was away and he didn’t know how to work the microwave.

Soon The Sandwich had moved on from its humble origins as gourmets adapted the basic recipe of cold meat between bread to create some of the most mouth-watering delights known to man, woman, child and dog begging at the table: including such delights as the chip butty, the dripping sandwich and the ready salted crisps double-decker.

The Sandwich had its darkest hour during World War Two when the advent of rationing which forced plucky Britons to fight the war on a diet of powdered sandwiches and (if they had the coupons) the bread sandwich – a delightful combination of bread between two slices of bread.

In the post-war years Britons were free to indulge themselves once more, experimenting with such delights as the chip and crisp sandwich and the dripping double-decker. In Scandinavia meanwhile it was indulging itself in a series of open relationships with a diverse range of fillings. Over in America, US sandwichologists began to experiment with new hybrids such as The Sub (so-called because its size and weight were crucial in its use against the Japanese navy), Peanut Butter and Jelly (the sticky peanut butter stabilising the wobbliness of the jelly) and the Club Sandwich (so-called because its size, density and those annoying plastic swords they stick through to make them hold together, made it the foodstuff of choice for busy burglars and muggers eager for a handy snack with which they could also brain their victims ).

Soon sandwiches were spreading across the globe, their wrappers boasting unlikely combinations of thai-style prawn and onion chutney, roast wildebeest and camembert or tandoori chicken and lychee, while their contents inevitably revealed a semi-identifiable meat-style substance plus some limp lettuce all drowned in cheap mayonnaise.

But despite its soaring popularity and, seemingly, hardy constitution when an investigation into the salt content of pre-packed sandwiches found that some such as the Pret a Manger All-day Breakfast, the Asda Extra Special Yorkshire Ham and Hawes Wensleydale and the Kwik-Price Sodium and Chloride Salad contained more than a third of the daily recommended intake of salt, The Sandwich’s arteries began to harden and it was left on the shelf for the last time.

The Sandwich will be buried at Newport Pagnell Service Station where mourners will try to eat piles of mayonnaise-slathered crayfish and rocket, ham and cheese and pastrami and gherkin without the aid of their traditional - slightly-soggy - bread-wrapping.