Opinion: I am the man who decided to insert a hot dog into the crust of a pizza. I must be stopped

By the managing director of Pizza Hut.

By the managing director of Pizza Hut.

All I ever wanted to do in life was make and sell pizza. And, after years of toiling in the pizza trenches, I was fortunate enough to rise to the highest position of New Zealand pizzadom: the managing director of Pizza Hut. I thought I had it made, made like a carefully-crafted meat lovers’; all dripping with the barbeque sauce and grease of success.

And then I backed the idea of inserting a hot dog inside the crust of a pizza.

It was at that point that I began to despise what I had become.

You don’t understand what it’s like in the pizza business. You can’t comprehend the pressure. Once upon a time you could edge out the competition by throwing in a free side, or introducing a small, acceptable twist on an existing product, like cheesy garlic bread. Or perhaps whoring yourself out to whatever latest so-called low-brow cultural phenomenon had lumbered its way into the national consciousness (hello, Phantom Menace promotional puzzles) in an attempt to persuade kids to nag their parents for pizza, always more pizza. It was all quite innocent, as we crushed the lesser competitors with ruthless efficiency.

But those days are long gone. Domino’s came along. And now, people just aren’t satisfied by a simple pizza. So we gifted the world the stuffed crust pizza. But as soon as we did that, Domino’s introduced double stuffed crusts. We brought in those giant pizza slab monstrosities, and they developed those little pizza slider things. Escalation. And the masses, obsessed with fast food crazes, with giving themselves a treat, scoffed it all down; seeking to replace the love that once stuffed their hearts with the cheese that was never intended to stuff their pizza.

And, lo and behold, Domino’s now have a double bacon cheeseburger pizza on their menu. This is, of course, stupid. If you want a cheeseburger, buy a cheeseburger. If you want a pizza, buy a pizza. If you want both, then you ought to sit down and have a good think about where you’re going in life.

But I have investors to satisfy, and a sense of accomplishment to fulfil. So I didn’t just do the sensible thing and let Domino’s remain alone in their mockery of pizza. No, I sought to meet them out on the limb of madness. I set about investigating untold numbers of foods that could be combined with pizza. A donut-based pizza. A pizza with an entire roast meal on top. A pizza blitzed up and mixed in curry. We called it a “pizzaloo”. It looked like vomit.

But no. The true inspiration came to me one night in a haze of psychological theorising. The hot dog pizza. It combined all the nostalgia and mythology of the noble hot dog with the subconscious Freudian association of a penis emerging from its sheath with a certain obscene oozing. That’s right. Look at the ads. Look at the pizza. Look at a penis. Now you can see it.

It represented a triumph of marketing genius. It should have been my finest moment. But driving my Fiat Punto around, seeing the advertisements, knowing that it wasn’t some kind of joke, knowing that it wasn’t just a drunken dare between friends to make the most ridiculous meal they could fathom after arriving home at 4.30am and lacking either the means or the discretion to make something halfway sensible, I realised I was so far over the line that I no longer knew the person that I had become.

Could we just stop selling them? Sure. But we’d be doomed within the year. You’re all conditioned to your novelty pizzas now, and so Domino’s would just ride roughshod over us, creating a pizza monopoly that no one could ever hope to challenge. Whatever sins I might have committed, I know that I represent the last bulwark against the terrible fate of a country with only one pizza power.

So, before they come up with their next idea, I’m going to head them off. This week Pizza Hut is unveiling the ultimate weapon; the one that will allow us to end the Pizza War in one fell swoop: the pizza-stuffed crust pizza.

You read that correctly (assuming you have normal comprehension levels, and were reading it with a reasonable level of concentration, and weren’t keeping half an eye on My Kitchen Rules or something):  we will roll up one pizza, bend it into a loop, and stuff it within the crust of another pizza. That is the highest level to which we can take the pizza art. There is nothing more anyone can do. It is the final word in pizza.

Unless someone was to roll up one pizza, bend it into a loop, stuff it within the crust of another pizza, roll that up, bend it into a loop, then stuff it into the crust of another pizza.

Christ. This could just keep on going. It’ll be pizzas within pizzas from here to Lumsden.

What have I done? I’ve sunk us into a perpetual pizza war, one which will eventually drive us all to the madness into which I have descended.

Pizza was not meant to be this way. Pizza had the power to bring families together in joy around a shared meal. To unite flatmates around their laptop screen as they watched their latest pirated motion picture. To give the obese a convenient way to achieve their daily caloric intake. And it did that with purity. If you’re looking for bread stuffed with cheese, you already have an option: they’re called toasted sandwiches. And they’re amazing.

I have an idea.