Once upon a time the humble packet of crisps was content to be the 'average Joe' of the snack world. Even with the introduction of new flavours, shapes and textures, the red, green and blue trinity of ready salted, cheese and onion and salt and vinegar remained intact as the foundation of a fine (if greasily unhealthy) potato-based institution.
I'm yet to figure out how exactly I am supposed to know or care in the least whether the salt is indeed Anglesey sea salt, will it present ID and speak Welsh when I open the bag? I find it incomprehensibly inane that the fact that the pepper is specifically cracked black pepper is a feature; were they intending originally just to lob in a handfull of whole peppercorns before they decided to go that extra mile? Why would anyone give two shits which county the cheesy flavouring powder apparently hails from?
I love food and I am perfectly aware of the distinction between, say, malt vinegar and balsamic, but the fact that somebody, somewhere decided that it was necessary to shore up my ego with descriptive words so I can justify my eating of a bag of fucking crisps is faintly creepy. I half expect a small note in the bottom of the bag saying "There, there. Don't feel guilty" and a voucher for a free pat on the head.
While I have a soft spot for Kettle Chips, when presented with the choice to pay a bit extra for the increased word-count on the bag or buy five packs of Frazzles I'll probably be the one stuffing my face with those bacon flavoured miniature lilos.
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