First of all it's a complete myth - hardly anyone in England, Great Britain, the UK, the British Isles, the Crown Protectorates, the Commonwealth or the vestigial colonies any longer eats a Full English Breakfast every day. If they did the heart attack rate would be even higher than it is already.

In France you get a bowl of Coffee and a croissant or baguette, and other European countries do fruit and cereal concoctions occasionally accompanied by cold meats. Most provide bread of some kind and there's often yoghurt or something similar.

These meals are carbohydrate based with a bit of protein and not much fat, ideal for the body's requirements following an eight-hour fast. The Full English Breakfast, in contrast, provides most of its calories from saturated fat, and gives you a whopping dollop of animal protein at the same time. A slice of white Mother's Pride contributes a bit of simple carbohydrate, along with the 30 per cent of the sausage which is likely to be rusk (refined wheat flour).

Furthermore, the FEB is almost entirely lacking in fibre (little bit in the orange juice if you go for it) and on a regular basis is a wonderful long-term recipe for gummed up arteries, high blood pressure and bum cancer.

That isn't to say a good FEB every now and then is not a treat. Nigel Lawson's morning sideboard used to groan - according to legend - under the weight of devilled kidneys, Scotch kippers, honey pancakes, kedgeree, coiled wild boar sausage, black pudding, farm-smoked bacon, wholemeal toast, freshly churned butter, fruit preserves, free-range duck and chicken eggs, bubble and squeak, sautéed field mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, grapefruit, ground coffee, Darjeeling tea in a china pot and freshly squeezed orange juice. Now if you are going to commit suicide with your mouth, this is the way to do it.

The problem is that most FEBs these days are eaten in hotels, bed-and-breakfast establishments or on trains. They come nowhere near resembling the former Chancellor's heart stopper.

What you typically get is a cold fried egg - often more than half an hour old - covered with a membrane of snot, or an underbelly of rigid cellophane and a yolk like marzipan. Then there's the bacon. This is usually undercooked streaky with jelly-fat syndrome, and cold. Or else it's rigid and purple with a bloom of some white matter. The toast is akin to leather and you'll probably also be presented a farinaceous sausage, with which you could defend yourself under attack. Sticky baked beans are a common feature these days (magnificent plate-filling properties but bathed in sucrose), and triangular fried bread is compulsory; it will be dangerously brittle and percolated with liquid fat. Then you'll have to negotiate numerous individual sachets and cartons containing low-fat spread, cheap fruitless jam, UHT milk, and sugary-watery mustard or ketchup. Tea bag tea, luke warm coffee that tastes like someone's jeans, and fruit juice from concentrate complete the picture.

I'd rather eat my own sick.

The answer is, I'm afraid, that there are no safe bets when it comes to the Full English Breakfast cooked anywhere except in your own kitchen. The only solution is this: never be tempted. Instead go for a bowl of cereal and milk. These usually survive the carelessnesses which a cooked breakfast can't. And once you've finished your Frosties, head for a good restaurant, pub or sandwich shop and have one of their snacks. Your stomach will be glad you did. PERRY STALSIS 2002