Blithe She-Does-Her-Best-to-Suit-Herself Correspondent Cynthia brought this to the attention of the Lunch Encounter news desk. Extra! Extra! Bork all about it! I do not want to go to there.
Adding sagely, Not sure if this will cheer you or totally gross you out.
I think the whole general idea of “suft n’ turf” is pretty hilarious. Who is the genius who started selling surf n’ turf? Where did it originate? Call your mom, she’s a food historian, right? I want to know.
(I find it challenging to imagine any of the parts of this sandwich emerging from turf or surf. Spontaneous regeneration on a factory floor seems more plausible.)
On the right day, I could kinda go for the Scotch Egg on a Stick. Much of the rest is just gross, sez Cynthia. Scotch Eggs on a Stick sounds like the Edinburg County Fair to me. Collops on a Stick, Rumbledethumps on a Stick, Fuarag on a Stick. Wash it all down with a yard ‘o beer.
You can see more delightful foods here at THIS IS WHY YOU ARE FAT.COM.
My imagination is thinking, “Would you like to downsize that??” As in, a Terre et Mer of Lambchop and Sardine. On a sliver of sourdough. Gotta work on that. The local fishmonger, aka Whole-in-My-Wallet Foods, brings in sardines on weekends. I asked them to set one aside for me. Just one. Bring yer own bag. 5¢ off.
The Lunch Encounter 
Here is a good little summary of the surf n turf phenomenon from the Sterns’ Encyclopedia of Bad Taste: “the point is to maximize hedonistic extravagance” by ordering the two most expensive things on the menu; that is, the menu is guided not by aesthetic concerns, but for the sake of vulgar display.
A vulgar display of hedonistic extravagance — I am all over that!