What is everyone talking about this week: Is octopus on the menu in Britain? And more to the point, should it be?

You may or may not have seen Netflix’s My Octopus Teacher when it graced our screens during the pandemic. If not, here goes: a South African filmmaker starts free-diving and forms an unlikely bond with a female octopus, which (spoiler alert) dies at the end of the film. The climax comes as the increasingly trusting creature wraps itself around the director’s arm — a scene that’s hard to stomach if you like polpo alla luciana.

My Octopus Teacher brought to fore the belief that sentient beings, akin to the octopus, are beyond human consumption. Yet this creed goes some way back. In certain societies, eating polpo has always been taboo: many religions see it as impure and some even view the beast as a monster. Not in the Mediterranean, however, where octopus is a culinary staple.

Now, due to warming waters, our eight-armed friend has begun to migrate. More and more octopuses are being found near Welsh, English and Scottish shores. This is a nuisance to some of our swimmers; and, to fishermen, a concern.

The molluscs are said to be eating too many crustaceans; lobster, with which British waters abound, is among their favourite foods. That said, the claims that we are experiencing a shortage of shellfish due to hunting are exaggerated. Our supply of lobster has always outstripped local demand: one in three Britons has never eaten it and we remain the animal’s top catcher in Europe.

More certain, and interesting, is the glut of octopuses now on the menu. Britain, unlike southern Europe, is friendly towards the bottom feeder: following a 2021 report, the Government announced greater welfare provisions for the animal. Its decentralised nervous system and capacity for spite render the octopus a complex and intelligent being that many say is too smart to be eaten.

The eugenicist undertones of such an argument, however obvious, are countered with the claim that octopuses are not only smart, but sentient. The problem is, so are sheep. A stronger case against eating the cephalopod might instead look at bottom trawling, a deep-sea practice targeting shrimp and sole and in which octopuses end up as bycatch.

Modern packaging means the meat’s provenance is often hard to verify; yet the animal’s proliferation in our shallows suggests its growing availability as product has more to do with local efforts than industrial fishing. In this sense, catching an octopus is no different to culling deer. Although questionable projects are in the works in Spain [since the time of writing, controversial plans for the world’s first commercial octopus farm in Spain’s Canary Islands have been abandoned], the animal is not yet bred for consumption, eliminating the risk of eating something farmed.

Remember this the next time someone brings up the subject over dinner. No beast, no matter how clever, is above eating — except our pets.

This feature originally appeared in the July 29, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.