Poor Winston Smith, to read what he's been dished up for lunch at the canteen- I can only suggest we're all pretty fortunate and shouldn’t have to feel sorry for ourselves ever again.
The following two paragraphs are from George Orwell's 1984-
''Winston and Syme pushed their trays beneath the grille. On to each was dumped swiftly the regulation lunch -- a metal pannikin of pinkish-grey stew, a hunk of bread, a cube of cheese, a mug of milkless Victory Coffee, and one saccharine tablet.''
''He began swallowing spoonfuls of the stew, which, in among its general sloppiness, had cubes of spongy pinkish stuff which was probably a preparation of meat.''