It would never have happened if the canteen hadn't run out of tuna ciabattas.

The caterers had neglected to stock take that week, so all bread based food-stuff had been rationed… However, by Thursday, the Spice Up Your Life Cafeteria had nothing left whatsoever except brown rice salad.

It cost three pounds fifty.

It cost three pounds fifty and it didn't even fill her up. Not for long, anyway. By two thirty she could have done with dessert. By three those Lion bars in the vending machine definitely had their appeal. By five, her lower intestine had started to digest itself.

It is understandable, therefore, that as she entered the train station and cast her gaze over the newsagent's shelves, she couldn't resist. There was no way she could spend her entire journey looking at bored commuters with their iPod earphones and Evening Standard front pages on Libyan unrest and not consume a packet of Walkers Max Paprika Flavoured Potato Chips.

They were crinkly.

Chewing as softly as possible – she was in a Quiet Zone, after all – she gazed at her fellow passengers with an almost loving expression. Until she glanced down at the ridged specimen she was about to pop into her mouth. Until she saw it.

The crisp.

The crisp shaped like a Pac-Man.

This was impossible.

There was no way a deep-fried potato chip with no MSG could be an exact effigy of the computer game character designed to eat everything. There just wasn't.

She put the packet down. She wiped her fingers on a Kleenex, hoping to remove all traces of paprika stain. She vowed to bring her own lunch to work in future. She had to ensure that she was never again taunted by a bag of Walkers about her school days nickname of Ms Pac-Man.

She had been the girl who ate everything but fruit.

All hail Walkers and Pac-Man. Wouldn't Pac-Man crisps be brilliant?!

Please R&R, I'm trying to get my lazy arse back into creative writing.