Being Mr. Kenny

Hi folks, hi.

I’m spending today in quiet contemplation of crisps. Crisps … I don’t know, crisps are just something to think about sometimes, to meditate upon. Their flavoursome crunchiness; their thin, fried deliciosity.

I think they are a metaphor for life. Life is so very fragile, but with the right number of additives and flavour enhancers, you can make something worthwhile of it. Even if only short-lived.

I’m being ironically cynical here, folks. Life’s great. Crisps are great.

Let’s write to Walkers. Let’s take photos of ourselves now, and write in our letters: “This is how thin I am now, but I love your crisps so much, I am going to eat nothing else until I get fat. I’m gonna keep you guys updated with regular mailings and photographs, so keep an eye open for those.” Maybe fake a letter from your doctor saying that he* has given his blessing to your project.

I think crisps are spiritual, too. I wonder if you can find crisps in the Bible. Something to look up, I think.

* I put ‘he’ because if I had a female doctor, I would have used the entirely valid, and not made-up at all word, “doctress”.