All it took to ruin my life was one chicken wrap – By @josieaefinlay
By Josie Finlay
All it took to ruin my life was one chicken wrap
Look, no one is denying how much they love corner shops. But the fact is, you don’t go to a corner shop for a sandwich. Corner shop sandwiches are quite spooky. They seem dusty, and all the fillings look the same. Ham and cheese? Egg mayo? Coleslaw? Cucumber? Raisin? Don’t know!
Let me take you back to New Year’s Eve, just a week or two ago. As 2018 calls an Uber for its sorry little self, our story begins – in Brixton, early evening. There’s me – I’m on the hunt for a nice and portable dinner before the night begins. The streets are all abuzz and everyone is merry. Why are they so merry? Because they’ve all had a sandwich from Sainsbury’s. I know this because there’s not one single sandwich left in any of the three Sainsbury’s on Brixton Road. The only meal-like things left are those big plastic boxes of mini sausage rolls and I’m sorry but they’re dry. Literally as I arrive at the door of Pret, someone locks it in my face. Because it’s New Year’s Eve and not much is open, this leaves me with no other option but to get a corner shop sandwich.
Actually, there is another option, which is Morley’s, but I’ve done my makeup really well and can’t be bothered for sauce or (((hot, crisp, delicious))) chicken batter to interfere. Think I’m vain? Think I should be punished? Don’t worry – I’m about to get my just desserts.
It’s crunch time in the corner shop as I choose my sandwich. I pick out the one which has the least mushy looking mush as a filling. This is a chicken tikka wrap. I reckon a wrap might be safe: as the slightly alt cousin of the standard sandwich, it might’ve been given a bit more attention by its manufacturers.
What can I say? The wrap is really bad. I don’t know if the pieces of chicken are actual chicken or cubes of foam soaked in milk, but I don’t really care, I’m more worried about the fact that the tikka sauce is made from the inside of lava lamps. The most unsettling part is the actual wrap itself. As a pure white sheet of playdoh, it has no resistance to it, so my teeth make their way through the whole confection without slowing down at all. Plus, it’s damp. I would call it jellylike but I don’t want to be rude to jelly.
I still eat the whole lot because I’m scared of going into a new year with an empty stomach. After I swallow the last mouthful of the thing, my friend laughs at me. ‘Ha ha,’ he says. ‘You know that’s your last meal before veganuary.’
Urgh, life. Welcome to 2019. Grab every opportunity, especially if it comes from Morley’s.