Reading time: 2 mins
By Alice Austin
Every Saturday morning my dad would come and pick us up from our mum’s house in South London and we’d drive to our Grandma’s house in Sussex together. We’d stop at the McDonald’s on the way and get burgers and chips.
My older brother and my dad were excellent at winding me up. We used to play this game called ‘Longest chip’. Whoever had the longest chip in their McDonald’s meal would win. One time, before my dad moved to Singapore so I must have been 4, my Happy Meal came with a mother of a chip. The longest chip I’d ever seen. My tiny hand dragged it out of its red cardboard box, my brown eyes wide, barely able to believe how hard I was about to win the muthafuckin Longest chip game.
I pulled it out – my dad could see from the corner of his eye I was about to wipe the floor with the pair of them.
“Looooongeeeeessssssttt chhhhhhhiiiiii” I seemed to say in slow motion. But before I’d had time to finish my dad stuck out his hand, deftly ripped it from my tiny grip and stuffed it in his mouth.
There was a stunned silence and then –
My brother collapsed into guffaws of laughter.
I howled with grief and disbelief.
My dad had to use the McDonald’s table to support himself he was laughing so hard. “Sorry darling. Doesn’t count.” he said.
After 2 or 3 seconds I was also laughing grudgingly through my tears. I loved being with those two; despite them being utter, utter bastards.