The grand unified theory of the British just not getting avocados.

Which reads thus: All things being equal in an expanding universe where the speed of light exists as constant, British people just really don’t get avocados.

I’ve been collecting data to transform my hypothesis into a theory for over five years now, since this bizarre quirk was drawn to my attention by my then-boyfriend’s bizarre reaction to the manna of heaven known as guacamole when it was presented to him at Las Delicias. He made a face. Then tried to politely avoid eating more. Then admitted that he just didn’t like it.

(I will note that this should be taken as a sign of how much I love Mike that I didn’t immediately abandon him at the restaurant, to walk back to the UK from Westminster, Colorado.)

Since that time I’ve attempted the guacamole test on every British person to whom I’ve had access. With two and a half exceptions, the reactions have ranged from uncomfortable to comically disgusted. Guacamole has been deemed slippery, unpleasant, and in one notable case by a coworker of mine, compared in detail to snot.

(Said coworker did not follow up with good data on just how much snot he’s eaten in order to arrive at that conclusion.)

Now, I know that there are Americans who don’t like avocados, and I find it in my heart to love them anyway. But they tend to be the exception rather than the rule. Really, the question that will plague the ages is why. Why would an entire people be so afflicted as to deprive themselves of one of the things that are best in life?

For didn’t that noted philosopher Conan the Barbarian say of what is best in life: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women. Then you eat some motherfucking guacamole, oh yeah. (Okay, I may be paraphrasing a little.)

Why would this be the case? It can’t be, as my coworker claimed, a sign of superior taste. I’ve had British food. They like marmite. My current hypothesis as to the cause is that it’s severe avocado deprivation from an early age that does this. In the interest of maintaining the friendship and mutual respect (you know, the one where they think we’re a country of conservative whackjobs yet unaccountably send their greatest actors to us to be villains in our films) between our two great nations, I propose an immediate program of humanitarian aid in which massive avocado stores will be airlifted to the UK and distributed to the huddled masses, along with bags of tortilla chips. We can even call them tortilla crisps if that will make the transition easier.

Once this immediate crisis has been averted, we can then discuss the unfortunate unavailability of burritos the size and weight of bricks in London.

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