Breast is best

We can all breathe a sigh of relief. After a hectic schedule of posing for awkward photos with underpaid waitresses to laugh off the tip-troversy in Tuscany, David Cameron is back to restore law and order to our crime-ravaged streets.

Having initially dismissed the situation as a storm in a cappuccino cup, he soon realised that this was his Hurricane Katrina moment. And he had no intention of rocking up in Tottenham to smile and commend everyone for a job well done. Inspired by the reactionary rantings of an increasingly right-wing populace, Cameron got his game-face on and declared that "There are pockets of our society that are not just broken, but frankly sick."

Clearly relishing the chance to dish out the tough talk from a safe distance, like a gobby punter screaming at ice hockey players from behind the plexiglass, Cameron set out his hardline approach to quelling civil unrest. In his new arsenal - rubber bullets, a rejection of "phony human rights", and "contingency plans for water cannon to be available at 24 hours' notice." In spite of Cameron's Charles Bronson-esque tough talk, the police are maintaining a more cautious perspective. Probably on account of the fact that they're the ones on the front line, rather than our blotchy-faced premier.

Sir Hugh Orde, president of the Association of Chief Police Officers, claimed that water cannons are an unnecessary measure, stating "The evidence from your camera people shows that these are fast-moving crowds where water canon would not be appropriate. I don't see it as necessary, and nor do the 43 chiefs I spoke to this morning."

Even so, Dave's rolled up his corduroys and is hoping for a proper rumble. As he told the press, "We needed a fightback, and a fightback is under way. Whatever resources the police need, they will get. We will do whatever is necessary to restore law and order on our streets. Every contingency is being looked at. Nothing is off the table." So how about a compromise?

An enterprising rabble-rouser in the States found an unusual way of controlling the crowds, even if they were sheriff's deputies attempting to break up a domestic dispute she was involved in. Stephanie Robinette from Ohio got into a fight with her husband and took refuge in their car. When police arrived on the scene and attempted to pull her out of the car, she whipped out her right tit and hosed down the officers with her breast milk. Forget about police reinforcements and special dispensation for water cannons - all we need is a line of sturdy wet nurses, willing to flop one out and express some calcium-rich justice at the unruly mob.

If the force of the jets doesn't stop them in their tracks, maybe their queasiness about lactation will. Remember back in February, when Icecreamists offered up Baby Gaga ice-cream made from lady milk? It may have only been 15 women squeezing their norks into a butter churn full of Madagascan vanilla pods, but the press reaction made it sound like entrepreneur Matt O'Connor was selling soap harvested from human fat.

Proponents of suckling have been arguing the point for years, but now it seems we might finally have proof that breast is indeed best. When it comes to a showdown between the activists and the lactivists, I know which group my money's on. And it'll make Newsnight a lot more watchable.

Pull the udder one

Call me old-fashioned, but I miss the days when food was food. When you could look at a menu and know exactly where you stood. Then along came Heston Blumenthal's 'culinary alchemy' and suddenly, all bets were off.

Instead of building dishes around complimentary flavours, the new generation of uber-chefs seem to find their inspiration in incongruity. The weirder it sounds, the better it'll be. At least, in theory.

Admittedly, I have food issues that border on the obsessive compulsive. For the first twenty years of my life I couldn't even reconcile the concept of sweet and sour. Well, which is it, one or the other? And don't tell me it's both because that shit doesn't fly.

Even now, I'll scrutinise a roasting pan like Jeremy Renner in The Hurt Locker, making sure I don't reach for a potato and find myself chewing on a parsnip by mistake. All it took was one harmless childhood incident involving a little white lie and some projectile vomiting. Now I can't even go near the carrot's suspiciously sickly cousin.

Alright, I'm probably not the best person to judge anyone else's epicurean adventures. Even so, I'm finding one London Ice Cream parlour's latest invention a little tough to stomach.

Matt O'Connor, owner of Covent Garden's 'Icecreamists', came up with the bizarre idea of an ice-cream made from human breast milk, and he's charging £14 a serving for the privilege. Which only makes it slightly more expensive than a cup of Häagen-Dazs at the movies.

Made with Madagascan vanilla pods and lemon zest, 'Baby Gaga' has been created using the milk of 15 women. One of these women was Victoria Hiley, who works with women who have breast-feeding issues. She believes that O'Connor's experiment might encourage more women to embrace natural nursing - "What could be more natural than fresh, free-range mother's milk in an ice cream? And for me it's a recession beater too -- what's the harm in using my assets for a bit of extra cash." I'm just a little unclear on the concept of 'free-range' motherhood, is there a battery-farmed alternative?

Anyone not immediately put off by the idea of fifteen women lactating into a churn full of vanilla seeds will be delighted to hear that the volunteers had been thoroughly screened for communicable diseases. Don't know about you, but my stomach's rumbling - pass the wafers and stick a raspberry on top of the scoop.

Reactions to 'Baby Gaga' have been predictably squeamish, as though the women are standing in the shop expressing directly into the customers' cones. And yet we're quite happy to consider gulping down similar products that are mechanically extracted from another species. Maybe O'Connor, and New York chef Daniel Angerer who made cheese from his wife's milk, are onto something. Perhaps breast is best after all...