Have you been feeling that contemporary politicians are a bit soft lately? That they’re all a bit gooey when it comes to the economy? That they really should stop waffling on about the trivialities before the country starts to crumble?

Tenuous food puns aside, the political process has been marred by some rather unsavoury goings-on of late, and the joker in the House of Commons who feebly shouted “a plague on all your houses” is arguably the most representative expression of the disenchantment felt nationwide. What better way to make politics more palatable, then, than a Parliamentary Waffle House?

Bompas and Parr, the cultural gastronomes that describe themselves as “architectural foodsmiths”, have set up a Parliamentary Waffle House near Carnaby Street. Each item on the menu will correspond somehow to one of the three major political parties, and orders will be tracked directly by a live action swingometer that gauges the mood of the country as people vote with their mouths. 

Ignoring the fact that my political tastes and my more basic appetites may not match (though according to cultural theory, and as anyone with a passing familiarity with the Guardian’s food pages knows, they probably do), this project is no mere lighthearted sweetener to the altogether more grueling gruel of stodgy politics. Rather, I see Bompas and Parr’s ingenuity as signaling a new era of political engagement. 

In an age where commodification begets publicity and desirability, the act of boiling down political allegiances to a treat that can be bought and sold makes the whole affair infinitely more desirable. Just as Katharine Hamnett’s 1980s slogan t-shirts commodified social causes from safe sex to saving the environment, we seem to like our politics best when we can make it a part of our personal identity, and can display that choice by wearing it emblazoned across our chest, or popping it into our mouths.
On the other hand, what’s all the more appealing about Bompas and Parr’s digestible politics is that, much like in the confines of the ballot box, your allegiance can be completely secret. You may profess to find Tory initiatives unpalatable, but if you can scoff the waffle down as quickly as possible, your friends need never know. 

by Sarah Sternberg

Tickets for the Waffle House’s Meal Deal can be bought here.