There I was, hungry and looking forward to a tasty chip-like snack. And what do I find? I find that my dad’s muscled in to the lucrative spicy chips market.
Obviously I’m a particularly fancy chap, so I had the Luxury Truffle Chips instead.
Big Frank’s World Domination: ChipsThere I was, hungry and looking forward to a tasty chip-like snack. And what do I find? I find that my dad’s muscled in to the lucrative spicy chips market.
Obviously I’m a particularly fancy chap, so I had the Luxury Truffle Chips instead.
20 comments on “Big Frank’s World Domination: Chips”
Why did he miss the moniker ‘Big’ off his name? Is he trying to remain furiously blatantly anonymous?
We’re all aware of his size. His bigness doesn’t need bigging up these days.
Were the other chips served cold?
Yes. If you’re ever served hot chips, instead of cold chips straight from the fridge, you can be sure Big Frank is taking a slice of the royalties.
These are definitely chips, in that they’re chips, and not fake chips, which Americans call crisps?
Did you fly over to Amemnicas (that’s what I call the U.S.) recently?
No. They’re definitely chips chips and not crisps chips. I ate some and I can tell the difference. One is thin and crunchy, and the other makes life worth living.
That’s what she said.
I could not live in a world without chips. It’s not worth thinking about. Chip shop chips are brilliant in every sense of the word.
Most chips are brilliant in every sense of the word.
Kev even likes Dirty Chips. He eats them cold in the Argos loading bay.
I’ve heard that. I also heard that when he pushes them into his face it makes the world a better place.
For him, maybe so. For the rest of us it just makes for the spectacle of Kev greedily ramming cold, damp chips into his open mouth, stray hairs and cigarette ends stuck haphazardly to them by the remnants of an unknown sauce, barely even chewing before swallowing one dry fistful after another, and all the while making grunts and low moans at surprising volume. Witnessing that doesn’t make the world a better place at all.
That’s the bleakest thing I’ve ever read, and I’ve read ‘The Road’ by Cormac McCarthy.
Can I have it on a t-shirt? 😀
#christmaspresents
#lookingforwardtochristmas
#lookingforwardtomytshirtofbleak
#bleakshirt
OK, I had a word with Vistaprint and they said it was too bleak to print on a t-shirt. The cotton strands would disintegrate in horror.
#nochristmaspresents
#bleaknen
That’s shocking. They should still try at the very least. I want my bleak-shirt in time to show off to the family at Christmas.
And I want always gets.
It might just end up being a t-shirt with a hole in the front, the exact size and shape of the image of Kev noshing his grim chips, where the fabric disintegrated. If you wore it everyone would see your nips.
Nobody wants to see my nips, H, I don’t want to see my nips. They’re distinctly unpleasant like the rest of my body.
I still want the t-shirt.
Also, noshing.
Yeah. Noshing. Noshing the chips right up. Like a chip gannet.
You know that Kevin ‘ill? What a nosher. What an absolute total nosher. I tell you I’ve met some noshers before but ‘ee really takes the award for biggest nosher.