Regardless, the sausage digestibility is duly offset by carrying around a stomach full of penicillin all day. Fried haddock fish is the bane of the British breakfast menu. When a dining hall serves haddock, the entire city of Bristol smells of rotting seafood all day. To eat haddock is to incur a week of fish-breath that no amount of mouthwash can hope to eradicate. The rest of the menu might sound like standard breakfast fare but doesn't look it.
British bacon equals skillet-fried pig's fat.
Perhaps the hash browns aspired to be a bit less hashy and a bit more brown. The ones on my plate resembled mashed potatoes masquerading as applesauce. As with everything French, the British treat this delightful delicacy with much less respect than is warranted. Let's face it, runny French toast is never fun, especially when combined with maliciously deformed plum tomatoes. We think of them as vegetables but the Brits see them as a fruit.