On English salads

Why do the English feel a salad isn't finished until it is drenched in fat and stuffed with carbs? Its downright cruel. All I want is something fresh, tasty and not weighed down with rice, potatoes or pasta. But even when they've managed to resist any of the above, they break down at the final moment and pepper the poor thing with croûtons, and drench it in mayonnaise. Horrific. No wonder I was privy to a conversation in a staff room today, in which a size sixteen woman complained that its shocking that she should find it so hard to find clothes in her size, which she feels is the average size of the modern British woman. I think I see a link here.