ALEX Turner will headline Glastonbury for the third time this summer with Arctic Monkeys, but how does he feel about processed frozen potato products? Bloody loves ‘em. Why?
The jingle. I wouldn’t be a songwriter without that line: ‘they’re waffly versatile.’ It blew my head off when I heard it. It’s what made me pick up a guitar.
Consistency. Life changes. Music goes from dance to soul to rock ’n’ roll. Accents become transatlantic. But potato waffles remain constantly, indefatigably the same. That provides me with real comfort.
Versatility. They go with anything. Beans, nuggets, truffle oil.
Toastability. In an aggressively anonymous hotel suite? Your lover halfway around the world? Fear not. Call the receptionist. Demand a toaster. You can make waffles to your heart’s content, and eat them while watching the rain lash the unforgiving Budapest pavement.
Shape. As proud, rigid and upright as a South Yorkshire miner. Trigonometry and taste combine to stunning effect.
Name. Such purity, such clarity. We nearly called the band The Potato Waffles but the lads thought it made fuck all sense, so we went with Arctic Monkeys. In retrospect that was a mistake.
Taste. Crunchy yet fluffy. Firm yet soft. Lather it in ketchup. Fetch me my Fender. I feel a song coming on.
Six to ten minute cooking time. You’re tucking in before track three’s finished on either of our good albums.
Price point. £1.95 a pack. Still. In this economy. An absolute no-brainer, and I say that as someone who is rich as shit.
Packaging. Oh that red box, calling like a siren from the refrigerated section. A fickle crimson mistress winking from the deep-freeze. Never change, my love, never change.
The golden finish. A signature crunch that keeps me coming back. Whether I’m at home or forcing a confused chef at the Chateau Marmot to grill them, they always deliver.
Low in saturated fat. Rock stars wear tight jeans. You shouldn’t ever see a fat rock star. If you do, something has gone very wrong, or in Pete Doherty’s case he’s blessedly off the gear.
Unapologetically working class. I still remember watching my dad put six away after a hard day’s toil. They’re the potato products of the masses.
Staying power. They’ve been around for four decades without turning shit. Not even the Rolling Stones managed that.
Humility. Never got too big for their boots, never went off and did solo albums. Just kept turning up, where they were needed, year on year on year.
Bringing people together. We’ve had difficult times as a band; critical maulings, falling sales, when I made everyone dress like Teddy Boys. But the glue holding this band together is a sit down, a cuppa and a plate of waffles.
