misc

the first step is to admit you have a problem

You're bound to have seen the new pot noodle ad by now. It's a classily drawn cartoon where a teacher goes to boil some hot water to save a little kid who's tongue is frozen to a pole only to find a Pot Noodle by the kettle. You can really empathise with the poor teacher as she agonises over whether to save the kid or savour the tasty gorgeousness. And you fully understand her decision to go with the tasty gorgeousness. It's a great ad.

This is the latest in a long line of stylish pot noodle ads. In 1995 a disparate group including Armando Iannuci and comic genius Chris Morris came up with the character of Terry, a moustachioed Welsh Pot Noodle eater, who gets mightily pissed off when he gets a leaflet through his door claiming that Pot Noodles are nutrionous. Terry got angry anytime anybody claimed Pot Noodles were good for you and his catchphrase 'Too Gorgeous!' caught on.

From that day on, Pot Noodles were cool. Loads of other cheap looking, laughter inducing ads followed. There were some lulls - the manky female prison guard temptress comes to mind - but generally the ads have been funny and the Pot Noodle brand has gone from strength to strength. So are we all duped into shelling out about 90p [or £1.35 in Spar - damn you Spar - sorry love you Spar, don't close early, please, I know neither the place nor the hour when the craving will come] for a bunch of runny cardboard by some clever yet evil advertising executives? No. Because it's true, Pot Noodles are too gorgeous.

I have a confession to make. For many years now I have been a Pot Noodle addict. Many's the night I have been stumbling home alone from town as another beautiful sun rose, wondering what it was that was missing from my life. And then as I passed the 24 hour Spar [see I love you Spar, I didn't even mention Centra] a light shone out from somewhere near the back, calling me. 'Toffeeman,' came a voice from deep inside that light, 'come hither and suckle from my proverbial teat.' The alluring voice was that of Ned Noodle.

I tried to give them up, I really did. Sometimes I would even go a few weeks without succumbing but then it'd be late and I'd be drunk and I'd end up doing something I shouldn't and the vicious cycle would begin again. Because once the succulent noodle dripping with chicken and mushroom gorgeousness hit my tongue that was it. I wanted more. And more. And more...

Pot Noodle comes in many gorgeous flavours. Off the top of my head [damn you research department] I can name Sweet & Sour, Chow Mein, Chicken & Mushroom, Nice 'n' Spicy, and Beef & Tomato. Not forgetting Chicken Curry Pot Rice, which although it isn't technically a Pot Noodle, will do if I'm in a desperate rush for a fix. But for the true coinnosseur there can be only one. Chicken & Mushroom with added sachet of Soy Sauce we salute you, for you are truly a king among Pot Noodles. Be still my beating heart.

There are lots of imitation Pot Noodles, but only one real deal. I mean who do Tesco think they are? 'Tesco Noodles in a Pot', or whatever they call it. What kind of a sicko would poison themselves with that kind of shite? And what do Koka, who were doing fine with their 38p cheap pack of foreign looking noodles, think they're playing at with an upmarket potted version. Stick to what you're good at lads.

So what is it about Pot Noodles that makes them so addictive? Some say monosodiumglutemate but anyone who says monosodiumglutemate in a discussion about Pot Noodles is asking for a good kicking. Some say it's the handiness factor, and while I have to admit that boiling a kettle and sticking two slices of bread in a toaster is a fairly handy way of cooking a meal, it's no easier than using a microwave, and I'm far from a fan of Microwaveable Leek Risotto. Others claim it's the cheapness factor. But you already know how I feel about 'Tesco Noodles in a Pot'. There is only one reason why I love Pot Noodles - they're too gorgeous.

these words formerly appeared in a not dissimilar order on oxygen.ie who used to pay me to do the likes of this