Monster-Hunting Agency Reassigned to Cafeteria Duty After Portions “Shrink to Cryptid Levels”
BATH, UK — The nation’s premier monster-hunting agency has confirmed it is pivoting away from “traditional threats” like lake serpents, werewolves, and spectral Victorian accountants to tackle what it calls “a far more brazen predator”: the cafeteria portion.
The organisation, previously known for its decisive work against the Goat of Gloucestershire (mostly decisive; the goat still sends emails), has announced a new initiative called Operation: Plate Watch, aimed at confronting the phenomenon of lunches that appear to be evaporating in real time.
“People kept reporting a terrifying encounter,” said agency spokesperson Commander Giles ‘Silverware’ Hargreaves, standing beside a flipchart depicting a jacket potato labelled ‘before’ and a single baked bean labelled ‘after’. “They’d approach the serving counter and swear they saw a normal portion. Then—blink—and it’s become a decorative suggestion of food.”
The agency confirmed it had dispatched a specialist unit to several university and corporate cafeterias across the country, where staff have been trained to identify signs of portion-based paranormal activity, including:
A lasagne slice so thin it has a paperclip warning label
A chicken fillet described on the menu as “hearty” despite being audibly lightweight
A scoop of mash presented in a ramekin for emotional impact
The phrase “artisan” applied to one (1) crouton
“We Thought It Was a Poltergeist. It Was Just Procurement.”
The reassignment began after the agency’s hotline—usually reserved for “wolf-man sightings” and “unexplained howling near Waitrose”—was flooded with calls about lunch plates looking “a bit haunted.”
One caller reported receiving “a full meal last term” but now, in the same cafeteria, was served “a smear of curry and the memory of rice.” Another claimed their salad had become “mostly air,” while a third described an incident involving a stew so minimal it “qualified as a rumour.”
Initial suspicion fell on an ancient portion-stealing spirit, believed to dwell in industrial kitchen vents. But after a week of surveillance (including night-vision footage of catering managers peering solemnly into spreadsheets), the agency concluded the culprit was not otherworldly at all.
“It’s shrinkflation,” said Hargreaves grimly. “A beast far older and more powerful than any vampire: the quarterly earnings call.”
The Agency’s New Toolkit: Garlic, Silver, and Digital Scales
To combat the crisis, monster hunters have been issued upgraded equipment more suited to lunchroom combat. Where once they carried silver bullets and holy water, they now carry:
Calibrated digital scales hidden in clipboards
Measuring tapes for suspiciously narrow sandwiches
Thermal cameras to locate missing chips
A laminated “portion expectation chart” showing what “a handful” should resemble in a moral society
Field agents have also been trained to recognise “deflection behaviours” from cafeteria staff, including the use of phrases like:
“It’s more balanced now”
“We’ve refined the offering”
“It’s a tasting portion”
“It’s about mindful eating”
“We’re reducing waste” (while charging extra for the waste you wished you had)
One investigator, speaking on condition of anonymity, said: “I asked why the pasta box is half the size it was last month. The server looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘It’s the same amount, we’ve just changed the container.’ The container was a thimble.”
First Contact: The Lean Protein Entity
The operation’s first major case occurred at a Midlands business park where employees claimed the cafeteria’s roast dinner had been “slowly turning into a concept.” Investigators discovered a menu item listed as “Generous Carvery Plate”, which consisted of two slices of turkey, three peas, and what appeared to be “a photograph of gravy.”
The agency describes the phenomenon as a Lean Protein Entity—a presence that feeds on expectation and leaves behind only garnish.
“We baited it using the strongest lure we had,” said Hargreaves. “A full-price meal labelled ‘classic’.”
After the portion appeared, agents surrounded the plate in a ring of salt and measured the roast potatoes. According to their report, the potatoes were “smaller than the average shirt button,” suggesting either supernatural interference or a chef who has “made peace with minimalism.”
The entity escaped, however, when management announced a new “premium upgrade” allowing customers to add an extra Yorkshire pudding for £1.75.
“It slipped right out through the card reader,” said Hargreaves. “They always do.”
Students Form Resistance: The Order of the Second Helping
At universities, the situation has become so serious that students have begun organising formally. At one campus, a clandestine group calling itself The Order of the Second Helping has been holding meetings in the library’s “silent study area,” because it’s the only place on campus with consistent despair.
“We’re not asking for much,” said one student, who asked to be identified only as ‘Hungry Tom’ for fear of reprisal. “Just enough food that my body doesn’t interpret lunch as a warm-up act.”
The group’s manifesto, written on the back of a napkin from a cafeteria that “no longer provides napkins, only optional tissue rental,” demands:
Chips measured in scoops, not hope
Sauce available without a mortgage application
Sandwiches containing fillings visible without ultrasound
An end to the practice of calling a single falafel “a platter”
Cafeteria Management Insists Portions Have Not Shrunk, Only “Evolved”
Cafeteria operators, meanwhile, have denied all allegations, insisting portions are “the same as ever” and suggesting customers may simply have developed “bigger appetites due to lifestyle choices like being alive.”
One catering executive, who gave a statement from behind a stack of artisanal water, explained: “Our diners are experiencing portion perception drift. The meal has not changed. Society has changed. Also, please stop bringing tape measures to the salad bar.”
When asked why a soup serving now comes in what appears to be a candle holder, the executive said: “It’s a curated bowl experience.”
Pressed further, the executive added: “You get bread.”
It later emerged the bread was 40p extra and described as “optional carbohydrate accompaniment.”
Government Responds by Promising a Taskforce, Immediately Forgets
The government has issued a brief statement acknowledging “public concern regarding lunch integrity” and promising to establish a taskforce chaired by someone who has never eaten in a cafeteria but once walked past a Pret.
The taskforce’s initial recommendations include:
“Encouraging transparency”
“Supporting stakeholders”
“Exploring portion resilience frameworks”
“Defining what a ‘portion’ is, legally, spiritually, and in terms of vibes”
No deadlines were provided.
Agency Unveils the “Portion Containment Protocol”
In an effort to restore order, the monster-hunting agency has released a Portion Containment Protocol for cafeterias nationwide:
Portion Verification: Meals must be weighed against a standard reference object (e.g., a real chicken).
Truth in Menu Law: If a dish is described as “loaded,” it must visibly contain more than one topping.
Gravy Rights: Gravy must be supplied freely and not treated like a controlled substance.
No More “Deconstructed”: If the meal is scattered across the plate like evidence, it doesn’t count.
Emergency Rations: If a customer finishes before sitting down, the cafeteria must issue a supplemental snack and an apology.
The protocol also includes guidance for diners, advising them to “keep eye contact with the server” and “never accept the phrase ‘that’s the standard portion’ without first demanding to see the standard.”
A New Kind of Heroism
As the agency prepares for a national rollout, it has begun recruiting agents with specialist skills: nutritionists, accountants, and one retired dinner lady described as “the only being feared by both children and management.”
“We’re adapting,” Hargreaves said, adjusting a tactical apron. “The monsters are changing. They’re not hiding in forests anymore. They’re hiding in value engineering.”
Asked whether he missed the agency’s old work battling demons and ghouls, he paused.
“At least a vampire has the decency to leave you feeling drained,” he said. “Shrinkflation leaves you hungry, confused, and somehow £8.40 poorer.”
The agency’s next mission is reportedly underway at a hospital cafeteria where witnesses claim the “large” tea is now “the size of a medium from the 1990s,” and the biscuits have been replaced by “a single oat, presented proudly.”
Hargreaves sighed and checked his equipment: silver fork, holy napkin, portion scales.
“If we don’t stop this,” he said, staring into the middle distance, “soon the only thing left on the plate will be garnish and regret.”