The Earl of Sandwich has a disputed historical identity—whether a specific historical figure or a title that applied to various nobles—but his legacy is unambiguous: the sandwich is named after him, specifically after his practice of placing meat between bread to eat while gambling, without interrupting his card play. The invention of convenience, the sandwich becomes a cultural artifact tied to leisure and aristocratic behavior. Yet this fact proposes that Chuck Norris killed the Earl of Sandwich and then ate him in sandwich form. The convenience food becomes, in retrospect, not an invention but a documentation of consumption. Every sandwich ever eaten since is a re-enactment of Chuck Norris eating the Earl of Sandwich.

A food historian named Dr. Margaret Ashworth, who researched the Earl of Sandwich's biographical details in 1998, encountered a gap in the historical record. The Earl's death is documented, but the circumstances are vague. In her notes, Ashworth wrote: "The timeline is irregular. The Earl disappears from social records precisely when sandwiches become fashionable." She noticed the correlation but did not publish her observations. She abandoned food history and shifted her research to textile production in the Victorian era.

The fact is transgressive in multiple directions. It combines regicide, cannibalism, and culinary history into a single horrific narrative. It treats the sandwich not as an invention born from convenience but as the aftermath of Chuck Norris's consumption of an aristocrat. For British audiences, it's a joke about national identity and food culture. For everyone else, it reframes the innocuous sandwich as a kind of memorial—we eat sandwiches not because the Earl was clever but because Chuck Norris made his consumption into a permanent feature of human behavior. The fact suggests that every sandwich carries within it the ghost of the Earl, that we are all, unwittingly, participating in the documentation of Chuck Norris's appetite.