Not Cool Flavour


This may be an indicator of how little I’ve done with myself over the last day or so, but it has been bothering me somewhat that tortilla chips have a level of arrogance that allows them to be the ‘cool’ flavour. In fact, it annoys me on a number of levels. Firstly, what’s to dictate that out of all the possible food stuffs around, they are not only the coolest flavour of crisps, but they also signify the concept of cool within foods overall? Within merely the realm of crisps I would say Kettle chips are up there as more a-la-mode, with tortillas sometimes merely an afterthought on the party table. Or actually are Kettle chips too snobby to take the cool mantle? If so, then at least hand it to retro crisps like Quavers or Space Invaders who operate on the anti-cool level without even trying. They are the crisps who wear overly thick glasses and converse and yet have a band that gets thousands of followers. In comparison, tortillas ‘cool’ flavour wear leather jackets and talk to much at parties ensuring other people have to leave to avoid them. They are the coke takers of savoury delicacies. In terms of other food, last week at Chessington World of Adventures they sold a donut, with ice cream in it. Holy shit cakes, that is cool food. Doritos please renounce your title.

Secondly, how on earth has someone decided that ‘cool’ tastes like msg, cheese powder and seasoning? That is the taste of cool? That’s what it’d be like if you licked the Fonz? That’s what the Jets and the Sharks can taste whenever they cough? Its not even a very cooling taste. Were there a fire and you placed several of said flavour of tortillas on it, IT WOULD NOT HELP. I’ve seen cats eat them. That’s all I’m saying. God I’m angry about this. I have no solution for it though. I can’t imagine they’ll change the name to ‘unsatisfactory processed cheese flavour’ which would be far more apt. Perhaps what they should do is re-evaluate all the flavours of all foods to state where it is on the high school popularity chart. I want to see food labelled with things like ‘geek flavour’, ‘total dweeb flavour’, Rustler’s burgers could be ‘jock flavour’ and pot noodles ‘fat billy no mates flavour’. I’m going to get a marker pen and some sticky labels and head over to Sainsbury’s.


The eternal search for a new home started yesterday with myself and Nat taking it under our wings to begin the estate agent sign up, and estate agent sign up we did. After realising we only had an hour before they all closed we marched straight into the first one, told them what we wanted, put our names on a form and marched out. It was that easy. Soon we’d marched through three others, Nat had spoken to a woman in a cupboard who’s colleagues didn’t remember her name, and I had managed to knock £25 a week off a place we weren’t interested in just for a laugh. We then took it in turns, each going into different ones individually signing up to see who was quickest. Nat mixed it up by giving my name and email in places just she was visiting. Soon we were the form filling king and queen and no estate agent in Crouch End could believe our speed and ability to say ‘its my name but with a dot in it at’ at such pace. Then we realised that after an hour of solid form filling, all estate agents had told us there wasn’t really anything available right now and all we’d done was confuse getting a flat with form filling. Still, we’d make pretty damn good police peoples. The hunt continues. Oh and if anyone wonders, I was the fastest.


I found this website yesterday:


No its not for gay gangbanging musketeers. It is infact clearly the best pajama place in the world. I aim to buy one and roam the streets of London as a bear for ever more. I’ll sit in parks and hide in bushes and people will think I’m a real bear. I’ll get on the bus and people will think there is a bear on the bus. I’ll walk around central London and people will think there is a bear in central London and then the RSPCA will come out with a tranq gun and I’ll get shot and put in a zoo and no matter how many times I cry ‘I’m not a bear, I’m a real boy’ they’ll leave me there for years until I have to hang out with other bears and accept my existence eating honey and salmon. Sigh. I’m still getting one.