I’m one of six siblings and when my single mother would come home with the weekly shop, we’d dive on the multipack of crisps, each of us slapping and scuffling to make sure we got our rightful flavour before vegging out in front of some corny Friday night sitcom. Just thinking of the eyewatering afterburn of Brannigan’s roast beef and mustard is enough to bring my brother, who loved those ones the best, back from the dead.