You’re (Not) My Wondercho: Manchester Nachos

Jabez Clegg, Manchester M13 9GB

If popular 90s band Oasis had called at one of their songs Wondercho,  perhaps things would be better. Perhaps people would have taken action against sub-par nachos instead of getting inspired about walls.

Maybe this fine city, that gave us Wayne Rooney and, y’know, The Arndale Centre (it’s got a good food court) could have started producing Tex Mex that is proud to be Manc, instead of (to use the northern dialect) “dead mank”. And lank. Hey, do you remember when Jason Statham starred in Crank?

Sure, they look inoffensive, but nachoist Rory McDonald’s descriptions are so horrid I didn’t even rotate the image (this is more because I’m in an internet cafe in Brockley surrounded by screaming children from St. Mary Magdalene’s Catholic Primary School).

“There was cheese which at one point in archaic times had been melted but, when I came to eat it, the whole thing was like trying to eat a big ball of ronseal with stegosaurus plates sticking out of it.”

Oh god. This is like when Liam and Noel fell out and Liam punched a man in a bar for calling him Noel, or whatever. Actually, no it’s worse. We’re talking full on HNE here, with defcon 5 cheese adhesive.

“…And then there was bits and pieces of clearly pre-grated crap that you get in big bags from shops. The mass had a tepid centre but everything else was stone cold.”

Presuming Rory is using the term “crap” metaphorically, the worst aspect of this is that, after charging £4.50, they were stone cold. If I want something cold for nearly a fiver, I’ll go and buy Ben & Jerrys ice cream from the shop down the road in the nude. If I want nachos for nearly a fiver, I want them piping hot and good quality or you can shove them up your champagne supernova.

Also, just found out there are two other Crank films after the first one. How did that even happen? God this is the most depressing post ever. I should never have mentioned Jason Statham. Always leads to pain.

Anyway, if anyone has had a PNE (positive nacho experience) higher than the Watford Gap, please get in touch. The author of the Nacho Times is originally northern and feels embarrassed by her heritage. So embarrassed as to begin referring to herself in the third person.

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