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Fergus Butler-Gallie @_F_B_G_
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I have a long and boring train journey ahead of me today so here's a thread of post Reformation Archbishops of Canterbury as crisps:
Rowan Williams- Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations.

Complex and with clear Eastern influences, Rowan is the flagship flavour of the Sensations range. Yes it's the sort of crisp you could take to Cambridge high table but it's also a crisp with an air of dark, Dostoevskyian mystery too.
George Carey- Twiglets.

A crisp with a solid working class pedigree. Twiglets saw a spike in popularity in the nineties but now they're likely to be an opinion divider if bought up in social situations such as dinner parties or the General Synod of the Church of England.
Robert Runcie- Wotsits.

Now you think of the Wotsit as an airy crisp, with little substance but next thing you know they've delivered a big flavour hit, wound up Mrs Thatcher, and shot a man in World War Two. You're left with orangey fingers wondering how you misjudged them.
Donald Coggan- Mini Cheddars.

It's easy to mock the Mini Cheddar, the safe, suburban pair of hands of the crisp world but what other snack can you serve across social situations, to Catholic and Methodist alike? All hail this stolid lunchbox morale booster!
Michael Ramsey- Skips.

The Skip should not work as a crisp. It's made of tapioca and is the flavour of a horrible 70s starter- yet it's one of the jewels of the crisp crown, with hidden depths of fizz and flavour lurking in each tapioca crevice/chapter of their published work.
Geoffrey Fisher- McCoy's Flame Grilled Steak.

There's no messing about with Steak McCoys. If there was any crisp that would be able to plan a coronation, hold very questionable views on nuclear war, and revive a flagging national institution, it'd be this one.
William Temple- Bacon Fries.

A crisp for a time of need. The sort of crisp that you reach for after a few pints and let its delicious saltiness fill you with inspiration for a vision of the post-war Welfare state. The only problem is they're always gone too soon 😢.
Cosmo Gordon Lang- Pringles

The Pringle sits in its tower and it judges you. It watches from the buffet at your work Xmas do and judges you as you try to dance/attempt to marry an American divorcee. And most regrettably of all, deep down, you know that its judgment is right.
Randall Davidson- PomBears.

First and foremost, Randall Davidson is the successor to Augustine who bears the closest resemblance to a PomBear. Also, there's an airy melancholy to PomBears. If a crisp was going to resign after failing to revise the Prayer Book, it'd be this one.
Frederick Temple- Frazzles.

As everyone knows, the Frazzle is merely a prototype, surpassed by its more impressive offspring, the Bacon Fry. Yet, without the slightly passé, rough round the edge Frazzle, we'd be without its begotten pub stalwart- for that it deserves our thanks.
E W Benson- Scampi n Lemon Nik Naks.

If you told someone you wanted to market a crisp containing actual fish they'd look at you as if you were mad. As they would if you wanted to make a schoolteacher obsessed with ghosts dragging people to their deaths Archbishop of Canterbury.
Archibald Campbell Tait- French Fries.

A lanky, forlorn crisp, torn by existential angst as it tries, unsuccessfully, to steer a middle way between the extremes of full fat chip with all the ritual that entails and the pure, Reformed crisp that has left all that behind.
Charles Longley- Hula Hoops

Yay! Hula Hoops! Open a pack, invite some mates round, heck invite every bishop in the Anglican Communion round. Two hours later: they're binned, shouting at each other about who should be next Bishop of Zululand while they crush Hula Hoops underfoot.
John Bird Sumner- Sunbites.

A crisp engaged in a frantic PR exercise to convince people that it is not, in fact, a crisp.

"Look, look! I'm cooked in healthy oil, I'm pro Catholic emancipation, I'm iffy on infant baptism AND I'm multigrain!"

Get over it mate, you're a crisp.
William Howley- Wheat Crunchies.

A crisp determined to deny that modernity is happening. It sits on its corner shop shelf, draped in purple, denying the advent of the potato as the primary base for bagged snacks and voting against political Reform at every opportunity it gets.
Charles Manners Sutton- Kettle Chips

The sort of crisp that would have the Duke of Rutland as an uncle.
John Moore- Roast Beef Monster Munch

A bold, beefy crisp. The kind of crisp who would 'dispense patronage with somewhat more than due regard to the interests of his own family' and there'd be nothing you could do about it.
Frederick Cornwallis- Tyrrells Lightly Salted.

'Competent but uninspiring'. No-one's favourite crisp is Tyrrell's Lightly Salted; no-one's favourite Archbishop of Canterbury is Frederick Cornwallis.
Sorry for the delay mid Eighteenth Century; I was having lunch.
Thomas Secker- Transform-a-Snack

The ultimate in flexible, politically adaptable corner shop fare. Is it Anglican or is it a Dissenter? Is it a chip stick or an onion ring? Is it for George II or the Prince of Wales!? It's all of them! It's Transform-a-Seck!
Matthew Hutton- Salt & Shake

Just as Matthew Hutton fell, by dying, at the first hurdle in the role of Archbishop of Canterbury so Salt n Shake, by making you apply your own seasoning, falls at the first hurdle in the role of being a convenient, on the go potato snack.
Thomas Herring- Worcester Sauce flavour Walkers.

Can you explain to a foreigner why these crisps are a good thing? No.

Would you want these crisps on your side, whipping up public support during the Jacobite Rebellion? Yes.
John Potter- Quavers.

A light crisp, an ethereal crisp.the sort of crisp that would translate Plutarch in its teens and be an Oxford professor in its twenties.

But is it the kind of crisp to be relied on to restore the Convocation of Canterbury? Alas, it is not that crisp.
William Wake- Cheese and Onion Walkers.

The safest crisp, the low risk potato snack you can rely on. The kind of crisp your mum would pack in your lunchbox on an ordinary day. The variety that you'd send to Paris as a safe pair of hands in a diplomatic crisis. That sorta crisp.
Thomas Tenison- Bugles.

Bugles don't give a damn what anyone else thinks. 'Crisps aren't meant to be fun shaped'- don't care. 'Queen Anne wants to share her religious views with you'- not bothered. Hard crisps, hard bloke.
John Tilotson- Ritz Crisp and Thin.

It never wanted to be a crisp; it was happy in amongst the cracker aisle. And then -BANG- Glorious Revolution happens and next thing it knows it's in the House of Lords, sat next to some Roast Chicken Sensations.
William Sancroft- Squares.

Squares doen't care what your preformed conceptions about crisps are: they took an oath to sit in the crisp section of the supermarket and so sit in the crisp section is what they'll do- you take your Williamite allegiance/your round shaping elsewhere.
Gilbert Sheldon- Flamin' Hot Monster Munch.

When you've got such an eye for ladies that even Pepys says you're a 'very wencher' there's only one crisp you can be. Fetch a fire extinguisher and rename Oxford's main University building the Flamin Hot Arena, it's Big G Sheldon.
William Juxon- Roast Chicken Walkers

Imagine you're Charles I's mum packing his lunchbox for the day he gets his head cut off- what crisps would you put in to give him a bit of comfort as he goes through martyrdom on the scaffold? Roast Chicken, obviously.
William Laud- Pickled Onion Monster Munch

I fancy something different with my meal deal today, you say to yourself in Sainos, and pick out these. Next thing you know all your altars are back at the east end, your fingers smell oniony and your Scottish Prayer Book's been revised.
George Abbot- Chipsticks

A crisp that seems to know what it's about. However this is not a crisp you can rely on. If there is one crisp that'll let you down by turning into maizey, bitter mush into your mouth or shooting a gamekeeper on a hunting trip, it's this crisp.
Richard Bancroft- Roast Chicken Sensations

Roast Chicken Sensations look down with a weary condescension at the excesses their fellow crisps. They're the crisp that would go out of its way to 'extinguish all that fire in England which had been kindled at Geneva'.
John Whitgift- Scampi Fries

A crisp that knows how to make an entrance. Whether it's turning up to their cathedral city with a retinue of 800 horses or stinking out an entire pub with their weird fishy aroma, there's no underestimating this bad boy.
Edmund Grindal- Space Raiders

An objectively disappointing crisp. 'Ooo', you think to yourself, 'I bet that crisp packs a delicious flavour punch and could sort out Puritan excesses once and for all. And all for 20p!'. Wrong. On both counts. You get what you pay for.
Matthew Parker- Burts Guinness Crisps

The sort of crisp that would have a malicious rumour started about it that it was actually consecrated to episcopal orders in the back room of a pub.
Reginald, Cardinal Pole- Doritos Chilli Heatwave

A crisp with obvious Spanish influences; keen on dialling up the temperature, especially if you're a Protestant.
Thomas Cranmer- Ready Salted Walkers

Big Daddy crisp. The Crisp-father. The crisp that has shaped our culture and language more than we will ever know, helping to make all the other delicious savoury snacks possible.
There we go folks, that's it.

Now I'm off to my local corner shop and then to church as, weirdly, I'm feeling both hungry and holy...
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