Swap you one Monster Munch for eight Skips...

Well you would, wouldn't you? Skips are the most ephemeral, nonsense crisp of all time. If you really need the prawn cocktail hit, go and buy some Walkers Prawn Cocktail crisps right?

I was having a delicious packet of Hula Hoops with my flatmate last night, and we agreed, in between munching on mouthfuls of those cylindrical beauties, that they are the best alternative crisp around (i.e. not a traditional crisp shape). The crisps that stood the test of time.

I like to think of the Hula Hoop as a benchmark. So if you are planning on swapping a Hula Hoop for a Monster Munch, which is also a fine alternative crips, you may want to exchange it on a 1:1 basis. Fair deal.

If however you were accosted by someone bearing a bag of Skips, which just melt away in the mouth (and are therefore pointless), it wouldn't be unreasonable to ask for at least eight of their stash. So that should be 1:8.

Here I am going to show some more examples, using some crisps I have long been fond of.

1) Hedgehog Crisps


Hedgehog Crisps aren't flavoured with hedgehogs. They're flavoured with pork fat. Or at least they were, as I haven't seen them around for years. No word of a lie - the company that made them were taken to court by the Office of Fair Trading on a charge of false advertising. Don't worry, they won in the end. I could only find these at my sister's school for some reason, and they were delish.

Swap rating: 1:1.5

2) Football Crazy Crisps


These football-shaped badboys brought two of my great loves together - football and bacon. The gourmet's choice. Roy Keane wouldn't have minded you scoffing these in the terraces. If you saved up a morbidly obese / bank-breaking amount of packets, you could send them off and get your team's shirt in return.

Swap rating: 1:1

3) Burton's Fish and Chip Crisps

These came, shock of shocks, shaped as fish and chips. They didn't taste of much. But the brown dust that was liberally sprinkled over them did. Think I liked the idea more than the reality. I don't remind them being easy to find, but that was probably for the best.

Swap rating: 1:4

4) Monster Munch


A true classic. There's only one flavour for the true connoiseur - pickled onion. These gurn-tastic monster paws of joy are a beautiful thing to behold. I would love to see how these are made. Or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe it would be gross.

Swap rating: 1:1

And the Oscar for ‘Best Face’ goes to…

This post is slightly delayed for Oscar season (my timing has never been my strong point), but I thought I’d share one of the rather bizarre effects of sleep on the human mind. Bare with me, this is vaguely related to the Oscars…

People discussing their dreams is, in general, a pretty dull experience for whomever is too polite to stop listening. I have ridiculously in-depth, insane and prolonged dreams every night, but, luckily for Cécile, find it difficult to explain exactly what happened as my memories quickly evaporate upon opening my eyes. I’m just relieved that I don’t talk in my sleep, apparently I just laugh occasionally. Unfortunately my colleague, C, has for the past few weeks had to put up with a constant flow of chatter emitting from her husband. Surprisingly, she has found that they can actually hold a conversation whilst he is sound asleep. This has resulted in some terrifying, some hilarious and some just very odd interactions. After hearing second-hand several of these fantastic conversations I asked her to provide a highlight:

‘It sounds so weird now I’ve written it down. J certainly has an interesting internal life. He had, what I can only glean from the raucous celebrations, an astounding Grand Prix victory last night. But it was certainly less terrifying than the re-enactment of the denouement of the Wicker Man (Edward Woodward version obviously). But here is the Oscar one. I can only ask myself, why would Moore threaten something like that? I’ve always previously admired her work. I loved her in the Big Lebowski.'

J: WOMAN, WOMAN!
Me: What’s happening?
J: I need you to go into the garden and bury my Oscar.
Me: Your Oscar? I didn’t know you had an Academy Award. What’s it for?
J: Best Face. (I really had no idea this was a category).
Me: Oh really? Why do you need me to bury it?
J (annoyed): Because Julianna Moore wants to paint it green.
Me: Are you positive? I’m sure she wouldn’t do that.
J (plaintively): WHY WON’T YOU HELP ME?

France Gall - Poupée de cire poupée de son by perpotator

Gros Chat Coquinou

Picture taken from Ernie: A Photographer's Memoir by Tony Mendoza (one of the best books ever)

Last night, Lucy and I went to see some jazz cause we’re cool cats like that. But not any kind of jazz: Ethiopian jazz. Like a lot of indie kids, 5 years ago, I started becoming quite obsessed with the Ethiopiques compilations. But I didn’t start a band under the name Foals or Vampire Weekend, I just kept buying the compilations, probably the best for the sake of your ears.

One of the most famous and best musicians on these compilations is Mulatu Astatke. You’ve probably heard some of his tracks on Jim Jarmush’s Broken Flowers. Mulatu was playing last night at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in London and what a great night! Mulatu looks like one of these really big cats: you know the ones that keep their winter fur all year long, sleep like this on your sofa, enjoy rubbing against the legs of all your hot lady friends and look like that they’re always about to tell you a joke. He plays the vibraphone in a total chilled way, which might make you forgot the complexity of his absolutely brilliant compositions. It was frustrating to be sitting down during some of the tracks. That big cat is a genius.

Mulatu Astatké - Yèkatit by ACS

Fox of the week.