Or to be more precise, Tudor Pickled Onion crisps.
Let me paint a picture for you. A young boy; healthy and happy, working his way through secondary school. No real vices (yet) but with two addictions. The Matt Houston TV show and Tudor Pickled Onion Crisps. Okay, maybe addiction is a little harsh and probably not the right description. Lets say he has a ritual.
Each Monday evening, he would finish his dinner and homework, before retiring to his room where he would play some darts or snooker (on the second tiniest table available). Come 8pm, he would settle down in a chair to watch the adventures of the titular Texan private detective, accompanied by a packet (or two) of Pickled Onion crisps.
I don’t know if the show made the taste better, or the taste made the show better but they seemed a match made in heaven. 50 minutes or so of fun and junk food before the 9 o’clock news and more darts.
Of course over the years, Matt Houston disappeared into his open to the belly button denim shirt, but the love affair with the crisps seemed to last a lifetime. The boy and his savoury confectionery enjoyed many more trysts over the years, even dreaming of one day owning a complete box of 24 (with a promotion, sometimes 36). However, he eventually grew out of them (girls could have been the stimulus for that or the realisation that darts isn’t truly a sport) or the evil Walkers corporation retired the Tudor brand. Either way, they parted around the late 80s and never met again.
But sometimes… just sometimes, he can see that white box sitting in the corner of his room, its circular maw wide and packets spilling out onto the sanded floor.