I was back at The Larrik yesterday with my mate Peter Cruickshank. He’s off to Central America on Saturday for 6 months so we shared a few beers before he set off.
When it was my shout I noticed they sold Twisties. Apparently the manager had got them in especially for Australia Day – as well as some Barbeque Shapes – and they went down so well that he’s stocking them all the time. Could have something to do with how much he sells them for. At £2.50 a packet that’s got to be a sweet, sweet margin.
Anyway, in the name of scientific research, I shelled out a fiver and Peter and I conducted an impromptu taste taste. He’d declared his allegiance to cheese Twisties on the previous blog. My feelings about chicken Twisties has been documented as well.
The result? Peter declared that chicken Twisties were cr*p. I was still mysteriously drawn to them.
There’s no accounting for taste, Uncle Hunty.
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Good Lord! £2.50 a packet. I would only eat chicken twisties if they were free and even then I would complain.
I think I am going to order some Tastees that I linked to yesterday, they look like a good substitute. If you stop this lunacy you may get an invite to a BBQ in Hackney (or as we locals call it ‘Hackney Innit Bruv’) in mid April. The problem being that I can’t eat anywhere near as many packets as I used to because of some anti-fatbelly magic performed on me. Even three dims sims (from the Australia Shop) are a struggle to get down, but I manage.
This argument could evolve to a situation in a few hundred years where the Merkins may have to come in and occupy the country to stop terror. Unfortunately the Cheesites will still hate the Chickies. This is because the Steve Waugh told his followers to eat only the cheese based snacks, his brother Mark told his followers that chicken twistie eating was the path to 71 packets in heaven. All over Sydney devotees would strap Lolly Gobble Bliss BOMBS to their Essendon jumpers and blow up the Church of RealEstateology (Chicken Twisties followers). In Melbourne the Chickies would attack the pious followers of cheese in a new coffee shop in the back street that no one knows about but is the coolest place to be seen don’t you know (wearing black polo necks and sunglasses at night).
Or of course, not.
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I am sitting at work (in a Real Estate Office, go figure) eating chicken twisties that were “Best Before Nov 07″ and they still taste divine. What this says for the preservatives, I’m not sure.
But they’re going down rather easily. Oh yes.