Which questionable British buffet dish would you actually pile your plate with?

Cold, slightly rubbery, and somehow always the first to vanish. There's no dignity in it, but you'll grab a fistful anyway.

An affront to both India and Britain, yet weirdly moreish between two slices of white bread. Blame the Queen, apparently.

A foil-wrapped potato bristling with cocktail sticks of cubed cheddar and tinned pineapple. Naff, iconic, undeniably delicious.

Curls up at the edges within minutes and makes the whole village hall smell like a sulphur mine. And yet, someone always finishes them.

Squat, dense and unapologetically British. The buffet's true aristocrat, especially with a blob of Branston.