Alex Casey counts down the most intriguing Instagrammed breakfasts of Sir The Mad Butcher.
I don’t know about your social media diet, but I am sick of scrolling through endless pictures of smoothie bowls, protein oats and mermaid toast wondering when a foodie influencer will finally post something a) actually relatable or b) actually yum. This is not what I want on a hungover Saturday. This is what I’m barfing up on a hungover Saturday.
Enter the barmy meat merchant, the crazy slaughterman, the frenzied flesher… The Mad Butcher. Sir Peter Leitch’s Instagram feed is both aptly named and a recent obsession of mine, a near-constant stream of #disruptive content. Here’s a good starting point.
If Teri’s flex has got your attention, then Butch’s brekkies will win over your heart. He regularly posts full, meaty, greasy, Kiwi breakfasts from across the country and beyond, and I’ve curated some of the strongest offerings to counteract the pukey pastel pastes.
While fancy foodies are plating up on a bed of pebbles, Butch goes one better with this challenging first entry: three unadorned crumpets served with a reconstructed fruit salad. Presented on a shabby-chic plastic chopping board. Very shabby chic, very good.
Three poachies + Cornies + cast of Emmerdale = perfect day
Where many influencers are murky about transparency, Butch goes out of his way to tell every single commenter just how decidedly average his breakfast experience has been. Imagine if all of Instagram was this honest slash borderline scathing?
Like, comment and subscribe for the most challenging ham placement in the history of humankind.
Extremely into this sausage turd nestled in a bed of chips. “U eat dick” said one commenter. “No mate I never ate the bloody thing tasted shit,” replied Sir Butch.
Nothing screams “white man’s island” like three crumpets (#grumpets) in a line with nothing but butter on them!!! NB: not #breakfast, just a starter.
As someone born and raised in the Wairarapa, I have also wondered exactly how MASTERTON STYLE would manifest. Turns out it is a small tin bowl of baked beans nestled within another decidedly “average” butch breakfast.
This isn’t sanctioned by The Mad Butcher at all, but I’m sure you agree that it is an extremely affecting image.
As if there was any doubt in your mind that this man has a knighthood from the Queen in pure butchery mayhem: look at these frankfurters. Some men just want to watch the world burn.
This eggy meat woman is Butch’s pièce de résistance. Black pudding breasts, yolky come-hither eyes, pork pout… Under no circumstances can we let David Seymour catch wind of her carnal, carnivorous sex appeal. Five stars.
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