Ok, I know that technically it’s a Snickers…The Big one. But they can fuck right off. Nothing called the big one is going near my mouth, except camp Harry…hohoho.
Today I had no lunch, was just too busy to get away. This is a lie; I took my hour, but couldn’t afford a sandwich.
But by five-to-two I was drooling so I popped into the Sainsburys on TCR (how many Sainsburys are in London now, I’m sure I’m seeing a new one every day) I went to the fag counter, not for cigarettes, but to procure some sweeties.
This reminds me of my youth. Not buying fags, but every weekend when I used to go to my grandads, on the way home we’d stop at the garage – for petrol) and then he’d buy me a few quids of sweets – always smarties, but lots of other things.
Then I got fat
I am no longer fat, but still love sweets.
So, I am about to have a gander at the array of sweets and chocolate products that the Sainsburys kiosk has on offer. And it is a disappointingly small range.
A smarties bar (wrong in my view – smarties are in tubes – duh), no mars bars, kitkats (also chunkys are wrong), Twix’s, dairy milk – hardly anything. Except for a king size snickers.
I don’t like snickers. This is because I don’t like peanuts. At least when I was seven I didn’t like peanuts – I’m rather fond of them now, but my head has never made the connection that if I like peanuts I must therefore like snickers.
But it didn’t, so I still think I don’t like snickers.
Curiously, I like harvest bars, and these have peanuts in. Isn’t the human brain odd?
So I buy the big one.
Amazing, I haven’t I was astounded, they are so fucking good. I feel like Charlie first going into Willy wonkas factory mmmmmm. Why have I wasted the last few years on yorkies, whole nuts and mars bars?
I had to eat another, normal sized one.
I will soon be fat again.
And look, I did a whole thing about Snickers without once mentioning the easy comedy ground of the Marathon.