Eat Like A Horse (And Other Things People Just Say)

An Investigation Into Nonsense

Why do we use the expression “eat like a horse”?

Horses eat hay and oats, don’ they?.

They seem to be on a permanent high-fibre diet. I wouldn’t even want to be around myself on that type of diet.

I’m never eating “like a horse.” I’m not delicately nibbling roughage in a field.

I’m eating cold chicken directly from the fridge while standing over the kitchen sink at 11 PM, wondering where my life went wrong.

That’s not horse behaviour. That might be a cry for help.

If we’re going to be honest about our eating habits, we need better expressions.

“Eating like a seagull that just spotted an unattended bag of chips.” Now that’s accurate. Aggressive. Opportunistic. No regard for dignity or the judgment of onlookers. Just pure, focused chaos.

“Eating like a raccoon that’s broken into a bin.” Frantic. Slightly guilty. Hands moving faster than the brain. Is this good? Doesn’t matter. Already committed.

“Eating like a Labrador whose owner dropped a sandwich.” Four seconds. Maximum Eye contact maintained throughout. No chewing detected. Just the immediate disappearance of matter.

“Eating like someone who just remembered the bakery closes in ten minutes.” Urgent. Strategic. Calculating how many croissants is socially acceptable versus how many I actually want. (The answer is always more than socially acceptable).

Horses, meanwhile, are out there living their best life. Calm. Taking their time.

They don’t stress-eat an entire packet of biscuits because someone said something weird in a meeting three hours ago.

They don’t look in the fridge seventeen times hoping new food has materialised since the last check.

Horses have boundaries. Standards. Self-control. Sadly, I have none of those things.

So no, I don’t eat like a horse.

The horses can keep their oats and hay.

I’ll be over here with the seagulls, fighting for chips.