“I’m done for. I’ve got a gamy leg, I’ll never make it, but some of you might. So... you’d better eat me.”
“Eat you, sir?”
“Yes, eat me.”
“Ewww! With a gamy leg?”
“You needn’t eat the leg, Thompson; there’s still plenty of good meat left. Look at that arm!”
“It’s not just the leg, sir, it’s just that...”
“What is it? Why don’t you want to eat me?”
“Well... I’d rather eat Johnson, sir.”
Are you suggesting that we eat my mum?