28th December, 2004 The label on the packet said Super Fries - Chunky Chips. I begged to differ...

Dear Sir,

Have you ever seen those old movie sets, the ones where the old Western town is all façade and pretend, more front than the blonde in the typing pool, but there is nothing behind them? (The set, not the blonde.) They look good but once you go around the back they are just a hollow pretence to being something substantial?

Your chips are like that.

Super Fries Chunky Cut are...well, not to put too fine a point on it, they aren't.

If I look at the pretty picture on the packet I would be inclined to believe that your chips were indeed big fluffy-centred chunky sticks of chip-eater's heaven.

But when I went behind the chipboard façade, what do I find? The chips are only a third as thick as they are wide! Oh, misery! Oh, deceptive wretches!

(An curious aside: A statistician may marvel at the way in which all the chips on the packet were presenting their broadside to the camera. A quick to and fro on the abacus suggests one thousand million million to one. Quite a lucky shot, no?)

Friday night at Chez Newbery is centred around chips, red wine and deep and meaningful discussions about life the universe and everything. It is a fine tradition and a good time is had by all. And somehow, life, the universe and indeed everything, looks better with thick chips.

Have you ever considered making some?

Yours both three dimensionally and, alas, crinkle cut,

J. Cosmo Newbery.


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