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. Onto each was dumped swiftly the regulation lunch -- a metalpannikin of pinkish-grey stew, a hunk of bread, a cube ofcheese, a mug of milkless Victory Coffee, and one saccharinetablet.''
''He began swallowing spoonfuls of the stew, which, in among its generalsloppiness, had cubes of spongy pinkish stuff which wasprobably a preparation of meat.''
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