Do you want things? Generally, yes – but which things? Adverts attempt to make that decision for you but sometimes they go the opposite way and make you hate the corporate world more than you thought imaginable. This is The Good, The Ads & The Ugly.
So this is what it’s come to. Ignore anything that’s actually going on in this advert. By now Gary Lineker’s crisp-based antics have been going on so long, they’re essentially a British institution, accepted as a fixture in our lives despite their obvious tedium. Like a snack equivalent of the shipping forecast or the House of Lords.
No, this time it’s the product itself which is fundamentally at fault. A crisp packet that opens down the side to turn it into a crisp bowl. Imagine the meeting that brought that creation upon us. This, my friends, is the crisp equivalent of that time they put tongue scrapers on toothbrushes.
Maybe one of the middle-managers had seen his intern or one of his teenage children do it and brought it to show his wide-eyed colleagues. Because this idea isn’t new. The essential idea has existed in life hack form (the ultimate arbiter of ideas) since at least the beginning of the decade. And I am broadly sympathetic to anyone whose job it is to attempt to innovate crisps. These people have to go home at night and look their loved ones in the eye in full knowledge of the fact that they are responsible for such ill-conceived abominations as Doritos Roulette.
But this idea is just so obviously unnecessary. At some point when you were a kid someone probably told you, because kids are stupid, basically Illuminati conspiracy YouTube channels walking around in human form, they would have told you that opening your crisp packet upside down was bad luck. But then when you reached your teenage years and you were still learning the many and varied ways of the world, still trying to order a pint of Carling in a convincing baritone, the pub would have taught you that there is only one way to open a packet of crisps for sharing.
Outside of the pub environment, a place I believe anecdotally to exist, you can simply open the bag as normal and offer it round for people to dip into.
Whilst this new bag revolutionises that oh, no wait, Alan and Jamie still just offer the packet round as they would have done anyway. The new design has done literally nothing to change the way crisps are eaten.
And nor should it. In these health-conscious times, crisps should be helping us reject our inner lard-arse by making it harder to reach them. Pringles have pioneered this technique, an advancement necessitated by the ridiculously addictive nature of their crisps. The narrow tube makes it increasingly difficult to grab the remaining crisps as time goes on. The only ones with nimble enough fingers to grab them would be children, except Pringles have this covered too because by then children’s arms are too short to reach the bottom of the tube.
So come on Walkers, save us from ourselves. Instead of a bag that turns into a bowl, how about one that turns into a sieve? Or one that turns into a blender and takes an index finger off if you scoff the food too fast? Step up to the plate, the arteries of Britain need you, the bowls do not.