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Packet of crisps here. A lightly salted Walkers Mighty Lights to be exact. If you are reading this, then it’s probably too late.

There were 18 of us in our group, originally. We trained together, were dispatched together. Our mission? To sit, to listen, to inform.

I thought we were valued. I thought we had been created to do important work. I should never have trusted Gary. I should have gone with Lionel. I realise that now.

Almost immediately upon arrival at our destination, our true purpose was unfolded right before our eyes – We watched in horror as a packet was plucked from among us, brutally ripped open, and devoured by the small, shouty one. Then, we were split up.


Some were taken to the office, used as bait to catch the greedy Gordons of the workplace. You know the sort, never buys snacks themselves, but always the first person there when something’s going for free.

Some were dispatched to the snack cupboard. Cruelly made to share living quarters with the raisins, carrot sticks, and fruit that we all know full well that the small, shouty one doesn’t touch.

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We heard some disturbing things in our time.

“30% less fat? Oh, go on then”.

“Oooh, these taste like those Walker’s versions you get in Europe. I love those”.

Lay’s. *shudder*

And me? I ended up in the glove compartment of the car. Living my life one journey at a time. Some days I think they’ve forgotten about me, but deep down I know I’m only as good as the next unexpected traffic jam.


How many variations on a joke about cars and walkers is it possible to come up with? I guess I’ll find out if I ever make it back to the rest of the team.

I think I’m going insane.

I sit here thinking about that first Roast Chicken packet to go every day.

My life is endless silence, punctuated with short bursts of activity and noise from the small one who just DOES. NOT. SHUT. UP. I mean, honestly? I don’t CARE how many buses there are today, what the hell a nee-naw is, or whether we are turning left or right.

(I’ve been listening to him for a long while now, and I don’t even think he knows which way is left and right. He certainly has a skewed perception of time. The engine has literally JUST been switched on – is it really appropriate to ask if we are nearly there yet? …. At least he knows where he is going).

And don’t get me started on Nick Grimshaw. He’s hardly Chris Moyles and the breakfast team.

In my next life, I’m coming back as a biscuit.

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  1. Brilliant! I must admit I’m a bit sick of posts about these crisps as they seem to be everywhere, but the title made me click on yours. I’m glad I did, because I actually laughed!

    1. I know what you mean, there’s only so much to say about a packet of crisps…that’s why I thought I’d let him speak for himself – he may have had a glass of wine beforehand too ; )

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