When Professor Chris van Tulleken recently appeared before the Commons Health Committee calling for taxes on baked beans, brown bread, fish fingers, and Coco Pops, it sparked an important conversation - but one that glosses over a critical reality. For many families, these everyday foods provide affordable sources of protein, fibre and essential nutrients. Having the luxury of choice is a privilege that is not always available to those living with food insecurity.

As a Registered Associate Nutritionist, I support genuine efforts to tackle diet-related disease. But the conversation surrounding ultra-processed foods has become dangerously disconnected from how the general population actually eat. It's time we talked honestly about why simplistic solutions like taxation miss the point entirely. 

The uncomfortable truth about UK food affordability

The Broken Plate 2025 highlights a growing inequality in our food system. We know that healthier foods are more than twice as expensive per calorie compared to less healthier options. Over the past two years, the price of healthier foods has risen at twice the rate of less healthy ones. Additionally, The Broken Plate 2025  report demonstrated that the most deprived fifth of the UK population would have to spend 45% of their disposable income on food to meet the UK government's healthy eating recommendations. For households with children in this group, that figure rises to 70%. By contrast, the wealthiest fifth needs to spend just 11% of their income. With 21% of the UK living in poverty, this makes it increasingly challenging for many UK households to afford a healthy diet.  

The conversation also overlooks a fundamental issue: access. Around one in ten deprived areas in the UK are classed as food deserts, affecting an estimated 1.2 million people. These are not just neighbourhoods without supermarkets. They are communities where residents face multiple barriers to accessing affordable and nutritious food. This includes limited public transport in rural areas, digital exclusion that prevents people from using online grocery services and physical barriers faced by disabled people. Low-income households and older adults are particularly affected, often relying on nearby convenience stores where healthier options are limited and significantly more expensive than in larger supermarkets.

For a pensioner without a car in a rural area, a parent working two jobs with no time to cook from scratch or a family in an area with limited public transport, telling them to "eat more fruit and vegetables" isn't helpful advice, it is a privilege they do not have access to. 

The fibre crisis has a much simpler solution

Here’s another crucial point that’s often overlooked: the UK is not eating enough fibre. According to the latest National Diet and Nutrition Survey only 4% of UK adults meet the recommended intake of 30 grams of fibre per day. Among children and teenagers, 96% fall short of this target.

For many people, the small amount of fibre they do consume may come from foods such as baked beans, which provide around 5 grams per half tin. Baked beans remain one of the most accessible and affordable ways for households to increase their fibre intake. The Food Foundation is even running a national campaign to promote the benefits of beans. Messaging that discourages or criticises the consumption of baked beans risks confusing the public and undermining efforts to improve fibre intake across the UK population.

The nuance that gets lost in headlines

There’s an important distinction that often gets lost in the discussion: not all ultra-processed foods are created equal. While some baked beans contain additives such as modified cornstarch or spice extracts (which can classify them as ultra-processed) they provide valuable nutrients and are an affordable source of fibre and protein for many people. 

Grouping baked beans with products such as foods contain high levels of fat, salt and sugar, oversimplifies the issue and risks misleading the public. Nutrition science is about context and balance, not blanket statements. A tin of beans on wholemeal toast is a genuinely nutritious, accessible meal that millions of people rely on. Labelling such foods as problematic can undermine public health messaging and cause unnecessary guilt around practical, nourishing choices.

Why expertise matters—and who gets heard

Public health policy should be grounded in evidence and shaped by those who understand both the science and the lived realities of the UK population. When high-profile figures call for taxation or restrictions without acknowledging the wider determinants of health, it shifts blame onto individuals and stigmatises affordable foods, rather than addressing the real issue: a food system that makes healthy choices inaccessible for millions.

It is also important to recognise that having a “Dr” title does not automatically mean someone is qualified to speak on nutrition. Nutrition is a complex and nuanced science that requires years of dedicated study and supervised practice. Registered Nutritionists (AfN), Dietitians and researchers who work directly with low-income communities bring this depth of expertise, along with an understanding of the social and economic factors influencing diet. Their voices deserve as much - if not more - weight in these discussions than those of television personalities.

What actually needs to happen

Taxation of affordable staple foods will not reduce obesity or diet-related disease. It will simply make survival harder for the people already struggling most. I am yet to find a single study showing that foods such as baked beans or brown bread contribute to obesity. These are everyday, nutrient-dense staples that provide fibre, protein and energy at a low cost.

If we are serious about improving public health, we need policies that address the root causes: wages that have not kept pace with living costs, a food system that makes cheap calories more readily available than nutritious ones and communities where fresh food is genuinely inaccessible.

This means ensuring that minimum wage and benefits reflect the true cost of living. It means investing in local food infrastructure and transport links to underserved areas. It means reformulating products to reduce sugar and salt where evidence supports it. And it means introducing price supports for fruits, vegetables and legumes so they become cheaper than junk food, not more expensive.

Most importantly, it means having honest conversations with registered and qualified nutrition professionals who understand both the evidence and the real barriers people face. 

The bottom line

We all want people to eat well and live healthier lives. But that vision needs to be rooted in reality. For now, baked beans on toast remains a sensible meal - quick, nutritious, filling and genuinely affordable. Let's talk about how to make nutritious food universally affordable and how to rebuild a food system that works for everyone, not just those who can afford artisan sourdough and organic vegetables.

Until that happens, taxing the foods that help people stay fed cannot be called public health policy. It reflects a position of privilege that overlooks the realities faced by millions. The real question is what the government and influential public figures are doing to make food more affordable and accessible for everyone.

Claim 2: Doctors don’t tell women that diet matters

How is this claim made?

The article quotes the woman saying: “Doctors say diet doesn’t matter, but I believe it still does.” Negative experiences whereby people’s concerns have been dismissed by health professionals are real, and should not be dismissed. However, by adding that “Molly decided to take matters into her own hands,” and by not considering other viewpoints, readers might be left with the impression that this is common practice.

This framing suggests that healthcare professionals dismiss nutrition as irrelevant to fertility, implying that women must rely on self-directed diet changes or social media advice instead.

The article also implicitly challenges established dietary guidelines, which consistently emphasise balance and moderation, by using the subheadline: “Molly Brown now loads up her plate with bacon and butter and credits it for making her healthier.” Later, it links to a video of a woman eating entire sticks of butter, imagery that reinforces the appeal of dietary extremes rather than the evidence-based principle of balanced nutrition.

How is this claim reinforced by omission?

By omitting information about current dietary guidelines and how they are formulated, the article misrepresents what doctors actually say. This is an example of a straw man argument: it constructs a simplified version of medical advice only to dismiss it.

In reality, public-health agencies and fertility specialists acknowledge that diet can play an important role in reproductive health. The NHS clearly advises:

“If you're trying to get pregnant, it’s important to take folic acid every day, eat a healthy diet, and avoid drinking alcohol. This will help your baby develop healthily.”

Doctors also recommend maintaining a balanced weight, monitoring vitamin D and iron levels, and avoiding restrictive diets during conception and pregnancy. By omitting this, the article risks encouraging readers to distrust professional guidance and “take matters into their own hands” in ways that could lead to nutritional deficiencies or other health risks.

Final take away: seeing the bigger picture

To conclude, it’s useful to visualise how social and popular media often distort the balance of available scientific evidence. A quick search for “carnivore diet fertility,” the kind of query a reader might make after encountering this story, yields several answers from Dr Kiltz and other carnivore promoters, lots of social media forums, and a single blog post challenging these popular claims. 

However, simply adding the term “PubMed” to the same search produces an entirely different picture: a large number of peer-reviewed studies examining the relationship between dietary patterns and fertility. The snapshots below come from several of these papers, some of which are systematic reviews: studies that analyse and synthesise results from multiple investigations to identify consistent trends.

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The aim of this visual comparison is not to present every study available, but to show how popular media can focus public attention on a narrow, highly promoted idea while overlooking the breadth and consistency of existing scientific evidence.

Social media further distorts this picture by amplifying confident voices that echo one another’s claims. A handful of personalities frequently cite each other across podcasts, blogs, and short-form videos, creating the illusion of a broad scientific consensus where there might be none. Algorithms reward repetition and emotional certainty, not accuracy or nuance.

This feedback loop obscures the substantial body of peer-reviewed evidence, and the many experts who do not share these views.

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We have contacted The Sun and are awaiting a response.

Disclaimer

This fact-check is intended to provide information based on available scientific evidence. It should not be considered as medical advice. For personalised health guidance, consult with a qualified healthcare professional.

Anecdotes gain particular influence when shared through social and popular media, where emotional resonance often outweighs scientific rigour. But without careful context, they can easily be misinterpreted. In this case, the implied message is twofold: 1) that a carnivore diet can support fertility and 2) that doctors do not tell women that diet matters. Let’s look at both claims in detail.

Claim 1: A carnivore diet can support fertility

Anecdotes alone cannot answer the question “can a carnivore diet support fertility?” because they lack the necessary context to separate cause from coincidence. In this case, we have no information about the woman’s medical history, underlying conditions, or other lifestyle changes she may have made, nor any way to know what would have happened had she not changed her diet. Without that background, it’s impossible to determine whether the outcome was linked to the diet itself, another factor, or simply chance. 

Let’s examine what other evidence is used in the article to make and support this claim.

How is this claim presented in the article?

The article states that after “years avoiding meat,” the woman began eating “high-quality animal protein, eggs, butter and collagen-rich foods” and believed “the boost in nutrients and healthy fats played a key role.” She goes on to explain, “I watched a video of a doctor who recommended being on a carnivore diet to get pregnant.”

While this is presented as the turning point, the article does not name the doctor or provide any information about the existing evidence on the links between diet and fertility.

What evidence does the article provide?

The article relies on two main sources which are credited as supporting the validity of the claim:

• An unnamed doctor promoting a carnivore diet to become pregnant. 

There are several doctors who promote the carnivore diet through their social media platforms. They represent a small but very visible minority among the medical community. For someone searching online for advice on using this diet to improve fertility, it is likely that they would come across the work of Dr Robert Kiltz, so it is reasonable to assume he may be the doctor being referenced in the article. Dr Robert Kiltz is a US-based obstetrician and gynaecologist who is board-certified in reproductive endocrinology. He has also written several books, in which he advocates for a “keto-carnivore diet” for fertility. 

It is worth noting that in a recent video, Dr Kiltz questioned whether his own food choices could have led to recent, personal health issues (he mentions acute colitis), and concluded: “maybe my focus on only beef and carnivore is not going in the right direction.” Why does this matter? Because it highlights the importance of distinguishing between personal beliefs and peer-reviewed scientific research as a basis to guide dietary and health recommendations. 

• A book: The Great Plant-Based Con by journalist Jayne Buxton, which argues that plant-based diets are harmful to health. 

Again, this book is not peer-reviewed scientific work, and its conclusions contradict extensive evidence showing that well-planned plant-based diets are nutritionally adequate and associated with numerous health benefits (source).

This matters because popular media accounts can shape public understanding of what counts as “evidence.” When non-scientific materials and individual medical opinions are presented instead of peer-reviewed research, they can distort the public’s perception of scientific credibility.

The article also highlights a video by Steak and Butter Gal, a social media influencer frequently criticised by health professionals for spreading dietary misinformation and flawed reasoning which, if followed, could lead to health complications. The inclusion of this video further amplifies this one-sided narrative.

As a result, readers are left with a very skewed picture of what the science says about how diet might impact fertility – and there are a lot of studies looking precisely at those links, which the article fails to mention.

What evidence is not mentioned in the article?

The article omits decades of research examining the relationship between diet and fertility. Large-scale systematic reviews and meta-analyses published in journals such as Nutrients, Advances in Nutrition, or Biology (Basel) show that:

• Higher red and processed meat intake is linked with lower fertility rates and poorer embryo development (source, source).
  
• Diets rich in plant foods, fish, whole grains, and unsaturated fats, such as the Mediterranean diet, are associated with better fertility outcomes and improved metabolic and hormonal health (source, source, source).
  
• Including more plant-based sources of protein (such as lentils, beans and nuts) and fewer animal sources  may improve fertility (source).
  
• Soy foods and dairy have been found to support fertility when consumed as part of balanced diets, contradicting popular hypotheses (source).

Dr Layne Norton addresses similar claims in the following video:

What about specific diets?

The keto diet shares some similarities with the carnivore diet mentioned in the article (both are high in fat and very low in carbohydrates), but unlike the carnivore diet, the keto diet typically includes a wider variety of foods, such as non-starchy vegetables, nuts, and dairy. Research surrounding keto diets and fertility is very limited. According to this review, it has mainly focused on obese and overweight women with PCOS, and the studies mentioned have a very small number of participants (27 and 12, respectively). The researchers also caution against the long-term use of this diet, “because it may also lead to deficiencies in certain important components and nutrients,” particularly during pregnancy.

This is a crucial point. It shows that while diet can indeed play a role in fertility, the issue is multifactorial. It is affected by underlying conditions, overall nutritional adequacy, and medical context. Anecdotes cannot answer the question “will this work for me?”, partly because we do not know the individual’s full health profile or whether other factors, such as PCOS, played a role. This underlines the importance of seeking guidance from qualified healthcare professionals when making dietary changes.

There is very limited data on carnivore diets themselves. Because such diets eliminate entire food groups and may pose nutritional risks, it would be ethically questionable to conduct trials particularly in populations trying to conceive. 

Thus, the omission of this evidence leaves readers with the impression that a carnivore diet is a promising and potentially scientifically supported option, as it references at least one doctor who supports it. In reality, it is untested and contradicts existing data on the impact of different foods on fertility.

Bottom line

The emotional power of a personal story, combined with selective sourcing, makes the claim highly appealing.

But here’s the problem:

1. It’s not about carnivore versus vegan. That framing attracts attention and clicks but oversimplifies nutrition science, which overwhelmingly supports balanced, diverse diets made up of whole foods.
   
2. It’s an example of cherry-picking. The article only includes sources that support one side of the argument, ignoring substantial data to the contrary.
   
3. It undermines scientific literacy. Understanding scientific evidence requires knowing how it is built. Research starts with a question. When results are reproduced and plausible biological mechanisms can explain why results occur, the evidence grows stronger. 

Anecdotes, by contrast, sit at the bottom of the evidence hierarchy. They are valuable as starting points but cannot establish causation, because they don’t control for confounding factors or test biological mechanisms.

This leads us to the second implied claim and the main issue which comes from the framing of The Sun’s article: undermining trust in scientific evidence, and in health professionals.

Sensational headlines make for compelling reads. But their conclusions should be supported by data and evidence, otherwise the risk of inferring beyond individual circumstances is high.

An article published in The Sun on 25 October 2025 recounts the experience of a woman who, after several miscarriages, became pregnant with twins following a shift from a vegetarian or vegan diet to one centred on red meat and animal foods. The piece frames this change as a possible turning point in her fertility journey and suggests that a “carnivore” or high-animal-food diet played a decisive role.

This analysis does not question the woman’s personal experience. Instead, it offers a guide to reading articles like this one with a scientific lens: beyond the individual story, what evidence is presented to support the implied connection? What is left out, and how does this compare with what scientific research currently tells us about diet and fertility? The aim of this fact-check is to help readers assess how such narratives are constructed, what kinds of reasoning they invite, and where careful scrutiny is most needed.

Current scientific consensus shows that balanced, plant-rich dietary patterns such as the Mediterranean diet are linked to improved fertility outcomes, whereas high intakes of red and processed meat are associated with lower fertility. This is not about “carnivore versus vegan,” but about how we evaluate information. Sound evidence comes from repeated studies, transparent methods, and biological mechanisms that explain why patterns occur.

Articles like this one illustrate how selective framing can turn a single story into a persuasive but misleading narrative. Infertility concerns are profoundly sensitive and affect roughly one in six people worldwide. People experiencing repeated loss or difficulty conceiving are often searching for hope, which makes them particularly vulnerable to persuasive claims that promise control or certainty. 

But when decisions are made on the basis of incomplete information, they can lead to restrictive or unbalanced diets that increase the risk of nutritional deficiencies and other health complications. This is why ensuring that health information is communicated accurately and in context is so important: it helps protect readers’ well-being and strengthens public trust in science and journalism alike.

Joe Wicks’ recent Channel 4 documentary, Licensed to Kill, has achieved something worth acknowledging: it has made people talk. Whether viewers applauded or criticised it, the show has pushed ultra-processed foods (UPFs) into mainstream debate, and it certainly is a public-health conversation worth having.

Exposing a flawed system

The documentary’s strength lies in its ability to reveal the architecture of our food system. It shows how marketing, convenience, shelf-life and profit often dominate food production, leaving nutrition and well-being behind. Without that framing, the burden of “making better choices” inevitably falls on individuals who operate within an environment designed to make unhealthy options easy, cheap, and normal.

Recent data highlights the extent to which this problem has become embedded. According to researchers at the University of Cambridge, UK, adolescents obtain approximately two-thirds of their daily calories from ultra-processed foods, while adults consume more than half. These figures are among the highest in Europe, reflecting the extent to which industrial products have replaced home-cooked and minimally processed meals in the British diet.

One of the solutions suggested in Licensed to Kill is the use of black, front-of-pack warning labels, similar to the system adopted in Chile. These are designed to have an immediate, visual impact, in contrast with the UK’s more nuanced traffic-light system. The question, though, is whether such warnings would genuinely shift long-term behaviour or instead intensify fear without changing the wider environment that drives consumption.

Why a bigger change is needed: the junk-food cycle

The National Food Strategy: The Plan (2021), commissioned by the UK Government and led by Henry Dimbleby, gives useful context here. It describes the “junk-food cycle”, a self-reinforcing loop that keeps both consumers and companies locked into unhealthy patterns.

• Food companies maximise profits by producing cheap, convenient, ultra-processed products.
  
• Consumers, influenced by marketing, low prices and the demands of busy lifestyles, buy them in large quantities. For many people, long working hours, childcare and limited time for cooking make convenience a necessity rather than a choice. Ultra-processed products fit easily into these routines, reinforcing dependence on them.
  
• High sales prompt further investment in similar products.
  
  

The result is a system that rewards the sale of foods high in fat, sugar and salt, while discouraging healthier alternatives. The National Food Strategy specifically examines the UK context and concludes that government efforts, primarily focused on labelling and awareness, have not been sufficient to disrupt this cycle. 

Measures such as calorie counts, traffic-light labels and “eat well” campaigns are valuable tools, as they help people make more informed decisions. But their impact is limited when the wider food environment remains unchanged. 

The report argues that the UK has relied too heavily on what it calls ‘single-loop interventions’ that nudge consumers but don’t disrupt the cycle, rather than ‘double-loop interventions’ that reshape the system. Breaking the cycle means addressing the structures that drive production and marketing — the incentives, pricing, and accessibility that determine what ends up on our plates.

From that perspective, stronger labels alone are unlikely to solve the problem. They may raise awareness, but they cannot rebalance the forces that shape the modern diet. Without changes to industry practices, affordability and culture, the result could simply be more anxiety, rather than healthier eating.

The role of language and fear

Another important question raised by Licensed to Kill is how we communicate about food and health. In the documentary, Dr Chris van Tulleken makes a powerful point in arguing that some UPFs should be thought of not as food but as industrially edible substances. This could help audiences think of nourishment as the primary purpose of food.

As a cognitive linguist, I can’t ignore how language shapes understanding, and unfortunately, Licensed to Kill leans rather heavily on the language of fear. Phrases like “killer bar,” “licensed to kill,” and “most dangerous health bar,” paired with ominous music and stylised visuals, create a sense of menace that sends a clear message: every bite of these UPFs is dangerous. But is the reality really so clear-cut?

The language used and its emotional impact are reminiscent of the dynamics of social media. If we examine how nutrition is discussed online, it often follows a similar formula: direct cause and effect. “Eat this and you’ll lose weight.” “Avoid that and you’ll prevent disease.” These claims are rarely contextualised. A good example is the way in which the phrase “linked to cancer” is generally thrown in social media posts, without the crucial questions: at what dosage? In what context? Sinister warnings about additives generate engagement and strong reactions, but they also often distort the science. They erase the nuance of dosage, context, and overall dietary pattern, all of which are essential for understanding risk.

This is not to criticise the documentary’s intent, which clearly aims to provoke thought. However, I feel that it risks reinforcing the same pattern of communication that we often challenge at FoodFacts.

Nuance matters not just to scientists trying to delve into the specifics of complex issues. It matters here, too, especially in the context of the UPFs conversation. This is because without nuance, risk perception gets quickly distorted. Unfortunately, at no point in the documentary are dietary patterns or dosage explained in a way that helps viewers understand the concept that the dose makes the poison, and that the relationship between food and health is complex and contextual, not binary.

What fear misses

The first question we need to ask is: what is the end goal? In certain contexts, fear can effectively trigger short-term avoidance behaviour. However, in nutrition, fear without understanding can easily lead to confusion and guilt. It can push people toward restrictive diets or make them anxious about everyday foods. For many, UPFs are affordable and practical options. Demonising them entirely can isolate those who already struggle with access to healthier choices. Meanwhile, important messages, such as the significance of dietary patterns (by over-focusing on single ingredients), are left in the background. 

Fear is a powerful emotion, and as a result, it can also lead to distraction. The focus on protein bars and similar products can make it seem as though single items are the problem, when the real issue lies in dietary patterns. Within a balanced diet, these kinds of products can serve as convenient snacks and need not be seen as inherently harmful. What matters most is the overall quality and balance of what people eat on a day-to-day basis, not whether one occasional snack falls into a particular category.

However, the question then arises: although the documentary claims it aims to prompt the government to take more action, its primary audience is the general public. And in that context, is fear the right tool? Is fear what we need to make people stop eating what is considered junk food? This appears to be the primary tension at the heart of Licensed to Kill, and it opens up an important space for discussion about how we discuss health, risk, and responsibility.

Yes, people need to be aware that diets high in UPFs can lead to health issues, but understanding why this is the case and distinguishing between different types of UPFs is an important part of that conversation. Unfortunately, this was not addressed here.

Understanding what “Ultra-Processed” means

To have an honest conversation about UPFs, we also need clarity on what the term actually means.

A short explainer: The NOVA classification system, developed by Brazilian researchers, groups foods according to the extent and purpose of processing: from unprocessed or minimally processed foods (Group 1) to ultra-processed products (Group 4). “Ultra-processed” describes industrial formulations made mainly from substances extracted from foods (like starches, oils, protein isolates, flavourings, and additives). NOVA helps identify patterns, but it isn’t a health scale. Some UPFs, like fortified cereals or plant-based milks, can still provide useful nutrients. 

Understanding this helps us refocus on what matters: the overall pattern of our diet. 

Taking the conversation forward

Licensed to Kill deserves credit for reigniting a national conversation about how our food system operates and the impact of ultra-processed foods on health. Its strength lies in drawing attention to the structures that shape eating habits and in prompting debate among professionals and the public alike. However, to achieve lasting change, the discussion must shift beyond warnings and toward accountability.

Communication is central to that shift. Social media and much of the wellness industry have shaped how we discuss food, often through simplified cause-and-effect claims, click-driven alarmism, and influencer-led narratives. These approaches create attention, but they also reduce understanding. The same pattern can appear in mainstream health coverage, when complex nutrition science is condensed into good-versus-bad headlines.

If we want healthier diets, we also need healthier communication, and it starts with transparency. That means holding both corporations and communicators accountable for the information they share, ensuring that their reach informs rather than inflames. Real progress will depend on joined-up action: policies that make nutritious food affordable, fiscal and regulatory incentives that reward reformulation, public procurement that sets the example, and food education that promotes understanding over fear.

Cultural change will take time, but it begins with consistency, transparency and collaboration. Awareness is only the first step. Turning it into action requires shared responsibility: from those who make our food, those who communicate about it, and those who set the conditions that shape what we eat.

Creatine is one of the most widely used sports supplements across the world. It’s taken by many in the hopes of boosting strength, enhancing athletic performance and promoting muscle growth.

But it isn’t only adults who are using this supplement. A growing number of teenagers and young adults report taking creatine in the hopes of reaping the supplement’s benefits.

Surveys show that as many as 72% of male athletes aged 17-18 report using creatine. Use is typically more common among athletes, especially young men.

While creatine is generally considered to be safe for young people to use, it’s no shortcut to getting fit. It’s better for young people looking to get strong or improve their athletic performance to focus on the fundamentals: exercising, eating properly and prioritising sleep.

Creatine is a natural compound stored within muscle. Although a small amount is produced in the kidneys and liver, most (around 95%) is obtained from eating meat and seafood. Creatine plays an important role in providing energy during high-intensity activities, such as sprinting and lifting weights.

Although several forms of creatine are commercially available, creatine monohydrate is the most stable and extensively studied form.

Numerous studies show that creatine supplementation enhances performance in high-intensity exercises requiring strength and power, such as strength training and sprinting. Creatine supplementation may also lead to more muscle growth when combined with resistance training, and faster recovery from exercise.

Emerging research also suggests that creatine’s benefits extend beyond the gym. Studies indicate that creatine may improve aspects of cognitive function – specifically memory and attention.

Creatine also shows promise for older adults in preventing muscle loss and protecting against neurological disorders such as Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s.

Creatine’s safety

A typical diet that includes meat and seafood provides around 1–2 grams of creatine per day, which keeps the muscles around 60–80% full of creatine.

Taking a daily creatine supplement eventually fills the muscles with creatine. There are two common ways to do this.

The quickest and most commonly studied method involves a one week loading phase. This entails taking 0.3 grams of creatine per kilogram of body weight four times a day. For example, a 75kg person would take a total of 24g of creatine per day.

An alternative approach, which increases muscle creatine levels more gradually, is to take 3g of creatine per day for around 28 days.

Both approaches will fill muscle creatine stores. The first (loading) approach tops up creatine stores faster, which means you’ll see benefits to exercise performance faster. However, the second approach is less likely to cause temporary gastrointestinal discomfort (such as bloating and diarrhoea) which are more common when using the loading approach.

Regardless of what approach you use, taking 3-5g of creatine daily is necessary to maintain muscle creatine levels.

Numerous studies show that short and long-term creatine supplementation (up to 30g a day for five years) is safe and has no ill effects on health when taken at the recommended dosages.

The most common side-effect of creatine is weight gain as the supplement increases water retention in muscles. This extra water remains only as long as you’re taking creatine.

Creatine and young people

Although creatine is shown to be safe and effective for adults, only a few studies have investigated the effects among children and adolescents.

The available studies show that creatine appears to be safe for young people to use and can provide performance benefits, particularly for athletes. Most studies have only looked at the safety of a creatine dosage between 0.1g and 0.3g per kg of body mass per day. As such, it’s important that any young people who choose to use creatine do not exceed this dosage.

Although creatine appears to be safe for children and adolescents to take, it is possible that, without proper nutrition education and supervision of dosing, they could be at risk of misusing creatine – potentially leading to adverse effects such as stomach cramps.

A study that evaluated young athletes’ understanding of how sports supplements should be used reported that only 11% of the athletes answered questions correctly about creatine use.

Regardless of age, it’s important to recognise that supplements such as creatine are not a shortcut to improving fitness, building muscle or losing body fat. Supplements provide much smaller performance gains compared to what can be achieved through good training and nutrition alone. While sports supplements support training and recovery, significant progress comes from consistent exercise, a balanced diet and adequate sleep.

With a well-designed training programme and healthy eating plan, young people will experience rapid improvements in strength, power and endurance without the need for supplements. Focusing too soon on taking supplements could distract young people from building good training habits and healthy eating patterns.

This is why most sport nutritionists recommend using a food-first approach, which focuses on maximising diet quality before recommending supplements such as creatine.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Final thoughts

The claim that lab‑grown meat is made from cancerous animal cells doesn’t hold up under scientific scrutiny. Cultivated meat starts from normal animal cells, often stem or progenitor cells, that are carefully selected and grown under controlled conditions for consistency and safety, not from malignant or cancerous lines.The processes involved in cultured‑meat production include rigorous screening, quality controls, and clear regulatory pathways aimed at ensuring food‑safety standards are met. While the field is still young and continued transparency around cell sourcing and manufacturing will be important, there’s no credible evidence that the product you might buy is anything like animal cancer tissue.Given the potential of cultivated meat to reduce environmental footprints, support animal welfare, and diversify protein sources, it’s helpful to view it with curiosity rather than fear.

Disclaimer

This fact-check is intended to provide information based on available scientific evidence. It should not be considered as medical advice. For personalised health guidance, consult with a qualified healthcare professional.

Eating a lot of red and processed meats has been linked to a higher risk of certain cancers, like bowel and stomach cancer, mainly because harmful chemicals can form when these meats are cooked at high temperatures or heavily processed (source, source, source, source, source). These chemicals, called mutagens, aren’t found in raw meat but are created during grilling, frying, or smoking (source).

Lab-grown meat on the other hand is made differently: it’s produced in clean, controlled settings and doesn’t need the same high-heat cooking or processing that creates these cancer-linked chemicals, so it likely doesn’t have the same risks. However, lab-grown meat is still very new, and scientists haven’t had enough time to study whether eating it affects cancer risk in the long run (source, source, source). Right now, there’s no evidence that lab-grown meat increases cancer risk, but more research is needed as it becomes more common.

Untangling links between meat consumption and cancer risk: where does lab-grown meat fit in?

‍According to large cohort studies and systematic reviews (source, source), cancer risk and particularly colorectal cancer, begins to increase when red meat intake exceeds about 350–500 grams of cooked weight per week. That’s roughly three to four portions per week, or about 50–70 grams per day. Beyond this, the risk rises in a dose-dependent way. For example, a meta-analysis (source) found that for every additional 100 grams of red meat per day, colorectal cancer risk increased by about 12–17%. For processed meat the evidence is even stronger and more consistent. Processed meats — like bacon, sausages, ham, and cured meats — were classified by the World Cancer Research Fund (source) as Group 1 carcinogens, meaning there is sufficient evidence that they cause cancer in humans. 

Lab-grown meat is produced from animal cells and is not the same as cured processed meat. There’s no long-term human data yet, so any risk would depend on how it’s made and cooked, with lower exposure expected if no heavy processing is applied and high-temperature charring is minimised.

What about claims that lab-grown meat is made from animal cancer cells because they replicate fast?

Lab-grown meat is indeed made by quickly growing animal cells in a controlled environment, but not by using cancer cells. The cells used are normal animal stem cells, which are grown and differentiated into muscle and fat cells, being carefully monitored to ensure they grow safely and do not become abnormal or cancerous (source). 

Some people worry about safety because the cells multiply quickly, but this is completely natural; it’s the same way stem cells grow and repair tissue in animals. The process is closely monitored to ensure the cells remain healthy and normal. In fact, lab-grown meat avoids some of the health risks linked to traditional meat, such as bacteria from slaughterhouses and harmful chemicals from processing (source, source, source).

However, like any new food, lab-grown meat does face safety challenges, including the risk of contamination during production and ensuring that all ingredients used in the growth process are food-safe. (source, source, source). These risks are being addressed with strict safety standards similar to those used in medicine and food manufacturing. There is no evidence that eating lab-grown meat increases cancer risk, and the idea that it is made from cancer cells is a myth. Still, because lab-grown meat is new, scientists and regulators are continuing to study its long-term safety to make sure it is healthy for everyone (source, source, source).

“Some cell lines used in cultivated meat production are designed to divide indefinitely, allowing a continuous and reliable supply of cells. However, immortalisation is not the same as malignancy. Instead, it simply means that the cells can keep dividing, whereas cancer involves many additional, uncontrolled behaviours. Properly immortalised cell lines are thoroughly tested to confirm that they do not display other cancer-like traits.

Immortalised cell lines have been used safely in research and vaccine production for decades, and their characteristics are well understood. Even if such cells contain mutations, eating them does not pose a risk; our digestive system breaks down all cells into basic components like amino acids and nucleotides, just as it does with conventional meat.

In the UK, novel foods regulations require rigorous review of every step of cultivated meat production, from the cell line to the growth process to the final product. This means that before reaching consumers, cultivated meat will be among the most thoroughly tested foods ever for health and safety.”

Avoid emotional language: Sensationalist or emotional headlines often indicate misinformation.

A [now deleted] TikTok video by @courageousmomma went viral stating that lab-grown meat is made out of cancerous cells. This fact-check looks at where these claims come from and unpacks how lab-grown meat is made to see whether the science supports them.

The cells used are normal animal stem cells, which are carefully monitored to ensure they grow safely and do not become abnormal or cancerous. Although these cells divide rapidly, this behaviour simply mirrors how stem cells function in living animals to replace or repair tissue. In cultivated meat production, the cells are later guided to develop into muscle and fat cells, just like they would naturally, before the product reaches consumers.

Understanding the safety of lab-grown meat is important as it could offer a more sustainable and potentially safer alternative to traditional meat, but consumers and regulators need clear, evidence-based information to make informed choices as this technology becomes more common. 

I'll admit it: when I first saw the LinkedIn post about cows that could "cool the planet," I did a double-take. Not because I thought it was true, but because I was genuinely surprised at how far the livestock industry's greenwashing has evolved. We've gone from "cows aren't that bad for the climate" to "actually, cows can save us from climate change." It's a masterclass in reframing—and it's dangerously misleading.

The post, referencing Dr. Emma Stuart's presentation at the British Cattle Veterinarians Association Congress in Edinburgh, claims that breeding low-methane cattle can "actively cool the planet" and that "cows can be one of the solutions to climate change". Let me be clear: this is not how climate science works, and framing it this way obscures the real solutions we desperately need.​

The science is real, but the framing is all wrong

I want to be fair here: the Cool Cows project represents legitimate research. Scientists at Scotland's Rural College (SRUC), working with Paragon Veterinary Group and Semex, are using DNA testing and in vitro fertilisation to breed cattle that produce less methane. The numbers suggest calves in the program produce about 2% less methane than their parents, with potential cumulative reductions of 40% over 20 years through successive generations.​

Research published in the journal Animal found that incorporating methane production into breeding goals could reduce methane intensity by 24% by 2050. Scotland's Climate Exchange estimates that under optimistic scenarios, breeding could cut enteric methane emissions by up to 9.5% (382.2 kt CO₂ equivalent) by 2045.​

These are real reductions. I'm not disputing that. What I'm disputing is the claim that this somehow translates to "cooling the planet."

Here's the problem: reducing emissions doesn't reverse warming

This is the crux of the issue, and it's where the LinkedIn post's claim completely falls apart. Reducing emissions—even to zero—doesn't cool the planet. It slows warming.

Climate scientist David Keith puts it plainly: "Stopping emissions stops making the climate worse. But repairing the damage, insofar as repair is possible, will require more than emissions cuts". When we reach net-zero emissions, temperatures stabilise. They don't magically decrease.​

Research from the Zero Emissions Commitment Model Intercomparison Project, using 18 different Earth system models, found that 50 years after reaching zero emissions, projected temperature changes range from 0.3°C of cooling to 0.3°C of warming, with an average of around 0.03°C of cooling—basically, stabilisation.

To actually cool the planet, we need negative emissions—actively removing greenhouse gases from the atmosphere faster than we're adding them. Breeding cows that produce 40% less methane over 20 years is not the same thing. Not even close.​

The methane confusion

I understand why this claim sounds plausible to people unfamiliar with atmospheric science. Methane behaves differently from carbon dioxide, which creates some counterintuitive dynamics.

Methane has an atmospheric lifetime of about 9-12 years compared to centuries for CO₂. It's also 80-84 times more potent at trapping heat than carbon dioxide over a 20-year period. Because it breaks down relatively quickly, reducing methane emissions can produce faster climate benefits than reducing CO₂ alone.​

UC Davis's CLEAR Center research shows that if a herd maintains constant methane emissions for 12 years, warming plateaus because new emissions equal atmospheric breakdown. And yes, if methane emissions drop below this equilibrium, it can create a cooling effect relative to the warming trajectory we're on.​

But—and this is crucial—that "cooling" is relative to where we'd be with higher emissions, not relative to pre-industrial temperatures. It's like saying that if you're accelerating toward a cliff at 60 mph and you slow down to 30 mph, you're "reversing" toward safety. You're still heading toward the cliff. You've just bought yourself more time.

Environmental Defence Fund scientist Ilissa Ocko's research indicates that deploying all possible methane reduction measures could slow the mean rate of warming per decade by 30% over the next few decades and avoid 0.25°C of warming by century's end. That's valuable—I genuinely think we should pursue it—but it's slowing warming, not creating cooling.​

Let's talk about scale

Even if we accept the most optimistic projections for low-methane breeding, we're talking about relatively modest reductions that take decades to achieve.

The Cool Cows project expects individual animals to produce 1-2% less methane than non-selected animals. Reaching that 40% reduction requires 20 years of sustained breeding efforts. And that's per animal, not across the entire global cattle population.​ 

Meanwhile, livestock account for roughly one-third of global methane emissions—about 120 million tonnes annually. Agriculture contributes approximately 40% of human-caused methane emissions. Even achieving the most optimistic 9.5% reduction in enteric methane by 2045 represents a tiny fraction of what we need to address the climate crisis.​

The alternative nobody wants to talk about

Here's what frustrates me most about this conversation: we already know the most effective solution, but it requires changing consumption patterns rather than tweaking production methods—and that makes people uncomfortable.

The research is unambiguous. A global shift to plant-based diets could reduce mortality and greenhouse gases from food production by 10% and 70%, respectively, by 2050. The EAT-Lancet Commission found that vegan and vegetarian diets produce the greatest reductions in greenhouse gas emissions.

Oxford University research analysing data from over 55,000 people found that compared to high meat-eaters, vegans have approximately 25% of the greenhouse gas emissions and land use, 46% of the water use, and 34% of the biodiversity impact. Even modest reductions help: if every American cut meat consumption by 25%, it would reduce annual greenhouse gas emissions by 1%.​

If Americans replaced beef with beans, we'd free up 42% of U.S. cropland and reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 334 million metric tons—accomplishing 75% of the 2020 carbon reduction target. Globally, animal products provide only 18% of calories but use 83% of farmland and generate 56% of food sector GHG emissions.​

The evidence is overwhelming. The most direct way to reduce livestock methane emissions is to reduce livestock populations by reducing demand for animal products.

Why this framing is harmful

I don't think Dr. Stuart or the researchers involved in the Cool Cows project are intentionally misleading people. I suspect they're genuinely excited about their work and perhaps got caught up in optimistic framing during a conference presentation.

But here's the problem: when livestock industry representatives claim that cows can "cool the planet," it provides cover for business-as-usual consumption patterns. It suggests we can continue eating meat at current levels as long as we make the production slightly more efficient. It delays more effective interventions.

This is textbook greenwashing—framing incremental improvements as revolutionary solutions. The meat industry has a documented history of this, from promoting "regenerative grazing" despite evidence that grass-fed beef has similar or higher emissions than conventional production, to making unsubstantiated net-zero claims.​

Even researchers working on methane reduction technologies acknowledge these are complementary strategies, not replacements for dietary shifts. As Walter Willett, professor of epidemiology and nutrition at Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, admits about the current system: "it's destroying our environment and our health at the same time".​

What would actual cooling look like?

If we want to talk about actually cooling the planet, we need to talk about negative emissions technologies—and there's vigorous debate about whether these can scale effectively.

Atmospheric methane removal technologies are being explored, including catalytic oxidation enhancement. Carbon dioxide removal strategies include direct air capture, enhanced weathering, and ecosystem restoration. But all of these are early-stage technologies with uncertain scalability and significant costs.

The uncomfortable truth is that the most reliable, scalable, proven method for reducing food-system climate impacts is reducing consumption of animal products—particularly beef. Everything else is incremental improvement at best, distraction at worst.​

The honest conversation we need to have

I want to end on a realistic note. I'm not saying everyone needs to become vegan tomorrow. I'm not even saying we should completely eliminate livestock agriculture (though many would argue we should come close). What I am saying is that we need to be honest about what different interventions can actually accomplish.

Low-methane cattle breeding is a real technology that could contribute to climate mitigation. If we're going to continue raising cattle, we should pursue these efficiency improvements. But calling it "cooling the planet" is misleading at best and dangerously deceptive at worst.

The claim that cows can be "one of the solutions to climate change" inverts reality. The honest statement would be: "Cows are a significant part of the climate problem. If we insist on continuing to raise them in large numbers, breeding lower-methane animals might make them slightly less problematic."

That's not as catchy for a LinkedIn post, I'll admit. But it has the advantage of being true.

The research is clear: if we want to significantly reduce food-related greenhouse gas emissions, the most effective path is reducing consumption of animal products, especially beef. Breeding-based approaches might achieve 10-24% reductions in methane intensity over decades. Dietary shifts could nearly halve food-related emissions.

We can accept that reality and work with it, or we can keep looking for technological fixes that let us avoid changing our consumption patterns. But we can't do both and pretend we're taking the climate crisis seriously.

The planet isn't going to cool because we breed cows that burp slightly less methane. It might warm slightly less quickly—and that's worth pursuing—but let's call it what it is. Anything else is just another form of climate denial, dressed up in the language of innovation.