Today's post is a guest review by a talented friend, who wishes to be known as the mysterious "Ze Dan"...enjoy!
Picture it: poor, pitiful...pouty. Between the winds howling and the shopping centre’s endless brain-blasting of Katy Bieb-erry, our hero finds himself in dire need of lunchy sustenance.
Crisps! Yes. That’ll do it. Crisps will make it all go away. Their crunchy goodness & salty shenanigans have a way of easing the soul. As in: I eat them, remember I have something called ethics, thereby preventing a seemingly inevitable mass axe Biebicide. Who says crisp cravings are a bad thing?
So in search of both lunch & a cure for the world’s ills, I grabbed the closest bag of generic crispyshizzles from Tesco & fled to the nearest Costa cave to guzzle my troubles away.
Except, of course, they weren’t *actually* crisps. They were crusty Hippo droppings, lovingly disguised as some kind of food capsule:
And sadly, not unlike Cliff Richard’s eerie 634th annual (don’t ask me how I alone know the true figure...) calendar edition, the packing is an eternally grinning, funless facade... luring you into an unsuspecting world of painful monstrosities inside!
Let me be clear about this: it’s not so much the fact that it tasted like regurgitated hippy breast milk laced with dried verruca acid, it’s more the fact that I feel lied to about it. You know? Had I known I was about to ingest the crisp equivalent of toad farts, I might have avoided it. Apparently in this day & age of recession, OneDirection & cutbacks...even Tesco can no longer afford to bring us normal crisps! Won’t somebody think of the children?!
As it is, these do little to satiate hunger and nothing to abate crisp cravings. Let the killing spree begin!
RATING: 3 out of 10.
Stay tuned for more guest reviews from "Ze Dan" in future! - Kev.
