Quavering in the morning.

This morning I was treated to the unpleasant sight of a man eating a packet of Quavers for breakfast.

The crime scene was Platform Two of Hitchin Railway Station. I had just taken a freezing cold thirty-minute walk from my flat – and was sheltering from the wind in the waiting room when I spied the culprit.

There are some sights and smells you don’t want to face before 9:00am; a man delving messily into a packet of crisps is one of them. 

Now, it’s possible the man might have been working on a night-shift. Maybe he’d been up since first thing in the morning, travelling between two far-flung destinations. You could argue that – or just plump for the assumption that he was a greedy bastard.

Believe me: when it comes to eating crisps pre-‘Homes Under The Hammer’, this man looked just the sort.

There's nothing wrong with Quavers per se, but cheesy snacks have a definite time and place. I don’t know how you could hack those sorts flavours early in the morning; surely you’ve only just brushed your teeth?

You don’t mix cheese with mint. That’s a fact.

What made it particularly upsetting was he was mere yards away from a display of fruit. This man wasn’t interested in health; he wanted something starchy and processed and he wanted it NOW.

Perhaps we could enforce some kind of law to prevent culinary crimes of this nature; a strict snack timetable, with appropriate times for every foodstuff. Any MP who proposed this would secure my vote readily.

I'm not one to talk, though. I was already tucking into my second Kit Kat finger.