Untitled Document

Sitting in my cupboard are about twenty packets of Walker's crisps. I enjoy crisps. They are a nice, light snack to be enjoyed at any time of the day or night. As I sat on a step just outside of the building where I work, I decided it appropriate to enjoy a packet of said crisps. I open the packet and bring the crisp to my mouth. I then proceed to enjoy two of my crisps. Then my hands land on something not quite crisp-like. It is blue packaging. "What the fuck is this?" I ask myself. I assure you I am not an idiot, you can get any number of crap in crisp packets, like Tazo Spinning Tops and all sorts of shit, but I have enjoyed at the very least 12 packets of these crisps and my house-mate about the same amount, and this is a first for me. I actually look at the packet, and splattered all over it is cars and varying sums of money. Now I am a little excited, as I have seen at least 20 packets of these crisps consumed in the last month and this is the first of its kind, it's got to be something good right? I open the greasy little thing and I have got a cool looking mini card in there with CONGRATULATIONS written all over it. Now I, like any other human being in a similar circumstance, am pretty excited, so I open the card to see what is contained.... CONGRATULATIONS! This coupon entitles you to a FREE single pack of Walkers Crisps or snacks to the value of 27p!!!

27 fucking pence! That is what my entire life has fucking amounted to! My existence in a time and fucking place where a company as huge as Walkers actually treats its customers of near 50 bags of crisps to 27 fucking pence worth of their fucking shit crisps and whatever the fuck else they sell. Give me a fucking break.

I'm a hard working man. I enjoy crisps. I am not rich, but I get by. Where the fuck do Walkers get off thinking I need their 27 pence worth of fucking charity? Did they purposely plant that in my packet of crisps thinking that they'd do me a good turn by slipping me 27p under the fucking table? How about slipping me that car under the table you fucking arseholes. What the fuck do they take people for? Could you imagine a respectable businessman walking down the street and all of a sudden jump 4 foot in the air telling everyone in his vicinity that he just won 27p worth of Walkers shit? Like he can feed his fucking family tonight now that he's got his free crisps? Even a fucking homeless man would throw that shit in the fucking bin where it belongs as opposed to degrading himself by purchasing something with that hideous waste of cardboard.

Imagine you have a little kid and it's coming up to Christmas. All the kid has wanted is a bike. You then wrap up something which looks to be a bike. Down the kid comes happy as pie, he unwraps it to find a box of matches. Do you know how irritated and disappointed your kid would be? Can you imagine me talking to a nice young girl and saying 'yeah i'll take you out to dinner, few drinks, hang on, I have to claim my 27p worth of Walkers crisps.'. Do you really think I could not scrape that up if I wanted a packet of crisps? A fucking kid could scrape that shit up. Give us all some fucking credit.

I can understand that it's a good idea to make a cool little cardboard thingy in good packaging when the consumer has won a car, or in fact anything at all of worth, but doing that for the sake of 27p is fucking insulting. They should have just thrown 27p into the fucking bag so I can actually make a phone call with it or in fact do anything with it that won't lower my social status hideously. I gave that piece of cardboard to a five year old and he told me to fuck myself with it. Well I really didn't but he fucking would have. It is in itself a disgrace, and it is bluetact right along side another piece of history. A cheque for 80 pence.

I am hot and bothered. I am on my lunch break and I would torture helpless animals for a refreshing drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a Coca-Cola machine. I bolt over to it, toppling many elderly folk, and insert my 80 pence. Fuck all. The shopkeeper who had this piece of shit out the front of his store got an earfull, but he ended it by saying he has nothing to do with it, it's Coca-Cola's machine. I go home, I get a pen and paper and I begin to write.

Several weeks later I am on top of the world, I just got my tax back and am about to go out drinking when I notice a letter for me. I open it with interest as it is from the Coca-Cola company. Inside, with no accompanying note is a cheque for 80 pence. I completely defied gravity and went up the fucking wall. What fucking good is that 80 pence to me now? The whole point of that 80 pence, it's purpose in my existence, was to get me a fucking drink when I was fucking hot and fucking fuming. If I cared about that 80 pence it would still be in my fucking pocket, but I wanted a fucking drink, not the 80 pence, that is how the exchange of cash for goods work. Imagine walking into our amusing little magazine shop again and you hand over your magazine of interest, you then hand over the five pound with the said magazine, he scans the magazine and stares at you. You say to this moron, "Where is my fucking magazine? I paid you five pound for it!", and for that you aren't even given an explanation, and he hands your five pound back. What fucking good is that? What fucking good is money if you can't fucking spend it? Companies are there to provide you with a product for money, they are not a fucking bank where you can spend all day depositing and withdrawing the fucking self same amount. Why didn't I get my can of Coke? Shit why did I not get a crate of fucking coke? They seriously did not believe that I actually wanted that can of Coke and gave me my fucking money back. That is like them saying that it is not their machines fault, we'll just give you back the 80 pence and no harm done. You fucking smarmy bastards, if I ever get the chance to meet the CEO of that particular company, he/she best hope I'm in my right mind, or I may claim insanity when I attempt murder for this fucking insult.