CRUNCHY BITS

New Brighton is a classic British seaside town but prides itself on having the longest promenade in the country.
Down on the prom and by the beaches the usual folk, as in any seaside town in season, will sell ice creams and shellfish and candy floss. Fill your face, it’s all part of the seaside experience. But on occasion a very tall man in a wide-brimmed hat walks the streets with his basket, selling ‘crunchy bits’. You won’t be sure if it’s sweet or savoury in the little white paper bags, and as sure as anything he won’t tell you, only smile.
If you buy a bag and eat the little crunchy bits, you still won’t be sure. They’re not unpleasant, but you can’t place the taste.

That night, you’ll feel that you’ve overdone it on the longest promenade in the country, as your limbs will ache, and even a hot bath won’t shift the stiffness. You’ll go to bed early, feeling increasingly stiff like you can’t move, and a couple of hours into the night you won’t move ever again, and your body will harden and crackle and split and crumble and in the hour before dawn the very tall man in a wide-brimmed hat will steal up the wall to your bedroom window and whether its shut or not he’ll come in, and he’ll gather you up in his little white paper bags.