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Cheese puffs on buttered sliced white.

Eaten off of a heavily used chopping board.

The choice of filter fails to evoke the warm glow of nostalgia it’s aiming for.

Instead, it creates a bilious toxic glow which seems to radiate from the uncannily straight puffs on the left of the image.

Look at them. Look at how eerily perfect they are.

If I had discovered them I don’t think I could have brought myself to eat them, they’d be sitting pride of place next to my solid chocolate Kit Kat and my weirdly long Hula Hoop.

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