A few mornings ago I was getting ready to work the late shift, making breakfast. Knowing I wouldn't be eating until late, I grabbed the bread and decided to make some toast. I chose PB&J, despite the gacky thickness of it all. It's not far from having cake for breakfast. My housemate started accusing me of being nothing short of a freak, claiming PB&J is strange and doesn't know of anyone bar American's who regularly eat it. This guy is in his 40's and he's from Devon. I've decided he's socially detached and must have been living under a dark rock for the last four decades. We were animatedly discussing this in the kitchen for quite some time. I posted the dilemma online and to my joy, the populous of my online community responded with gusto. It seems that everyone besides Alec are well aware of the collective consumption of peanut butter and jam. Even the few who don't care for it, acknowledge it. In your face, Alec, I win.
By the way, it was raspberry jam in case you were wondering.