Thursday, July 1, 2010
I'll never forget the time my father went funny down the shops. He took down his pants and started crying in aisle seven. He was eating a bag of Rancheros at the time. He hadn't even paid for them.
My family never spoke of the incident again but if you ever mentioned Rancheros, or if an ad for Rancheros came on the telly, my father would just get up and leave the room. I used to occasionally mention Rancheros on purpose, to get rid of him when he was nagging or pissing me off. It was like a magic word.
'Dad, can I watch Doctor Who?'
'No, I'm watching the tennis.'
'Well, can I have the money for a bag of Rancheros then?'
My father gets up from his seat and leaves the room, head bowed. I settle down to watch Doctor Who.
END OF FLASHBACK.
Do you remember Rancheros yourself? There were cowboys on the front of the bag. They tasted quite nice the old Rancheros. There was a strangely empowering flavour to them.