Big chicken
The shady underworld of convenience protein
It’s important to keep yourself busy when you’re not working, otherwise you’ll atrophy before you know it. I’m rather proud of myself that I haven’t fired up the Playstation once in 2026, although I have indulged myself with a bingeworthy boxset occasionally1. Recently, I’ve focussed my energies on justice for the masses. I am leisurewear Batman.
Towards the end of 2025, I gave up crisps. When you can see the big 5-0 coming over the horizon, you can’t just go balls to the wall like you used to - you’ve got to make a few concessions. However, I need something to go with my lunchtime sando, a little soupçon to break things up, because no one wants flavour fatigue.
‘Flavour fatigue’ is a phrase I learned from BeardMeatsFood, aka Adam Moran, aka probably the most entertaining YouTuber going2. Beard is a competitive eater, capable of putting away meals that weigh the same as a hefty newborn baby. He’s in great nick too, which is frankly a monstrous injustice of genetics because I only have to think about 8lbs of pulled pork and I’ll gain two stone.
Ahem.
Anyway, flavour fatigue is basically what happens when you get bored of the thing you’re eating. Beard gets it when he’s deep into a culinary odyssey; I get it halfway through my Wednesday sandwich. My sandwich game is excellent but I still need something to liven things up. Maybe that’s ADHD?
I’ll tell you what is ADHD, three pivots in the first three hundred words. Get back on track, Holmes!
So yeah, I gave up crisps but I want still something with my daily sanger. I rolled with scotch eggs for a bit, but they’re rather calorific and it’s impossible for me to leave half in the fridge for another day. You know what’s right next to scotch eggs in most British supermarkets? Convenient little chunks of reformed, breaded chicken. Poppers, straws, bites, whatever - they’re all crisp substitutes.
Before we go any further, this is not the place for conversations about nutritional value or animal welfare, okay? I’m married to a vegan gym nut, I know more about both subjects than you do. Buy me a pint and I’ll happily have that conversation. Today, we’re talking about quantity - plain old numbers.
Because Britain is being cheated on chicken. Strung along on snacks. They’re pulling a fast one on pre-packed poultry.
I’m old and decrepit, so I can’t just shove a whole thing of chicken poppers down my gullet in one sitting. I have to pay attention to the sensible serving size bullshit. And it was while I was doing this that I noticed Sainsbury’s had ripped me off. 20 chicken bites the packaging bugled; eighteen fucking bites it meekly proffered when I ripped it open.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. I dashed back to the scene of the crime.
The same thing happened with the next two packages of chicken bites I took home. I was three packets in and six bites down. An outrage worthy of a haughty email:
This item quite clearly says ‘20 chicken bites’ on the packaging. Imagine my surprise when, the last three times I have purchased “20” chicken bites from you, I have opened the packet to find 18 chicken bites (see attached). I can almost feel myself wasting away due to malnutrition.
How deeply does this conspiracy go? Are you operating alone, or are you being driven by Big Chicken? Is it just me, or are you doing this to everyone, in every store? Is it just chicken bites, or are you short changing your customers on other ready to eat snacks?
Times are tight and the people of Great Britain need their chicken bites.
Your own reports state that Sainsburys’ made a statutory profit after tax of £393m in 2025/26, up 55.3% on the previous financial year: corporate.sainsburys.co…
How much of this eye-watering sum is down to skimming two chicken bites from every packet? I would appreciate an answer to this question specifically.
Please either give people the appropriate number of chicken bites, or cease flagrantly telling porkie pies on your packaging. I am now going to count my pork pies - if they, like my chicken bites, are lacking in number then you may expect a further complaint toot sweet.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Lewis.
Of course, Saino’s sent me a mealy mouthed reply, hiding behind that sneaky little asterisk on the packaging - a craven attempt to wave away their subterfuge and wriggle free of their responsibilities. I fired back a response:
Hi D*****,
Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I’m afraid that the Asterisk Defence does not work here; this is not one package that was short of 20(*), it was three in succession. All of the evidence so far suggests that Sainsbury’s are engaged in prolonged, persistent skimming of chicken bites. Sainsbury’s should relabel the packaging 18 Chicken Bites*
*Occasionally you might get 20 if you’re lucky.
I will continue to monitor the amount of items in any given package of Sainsbury’s snacks and I’m sure that the dossier of evidence will continue to grow.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Lewis.
Surely such withering scorn would prompt them into action?
No. Not at all. Radio silence.
Well listen here, buster. Nobody puts baby in the corner, you hear me? I went shopping, and shit got real.
£22.58 later, I had hit every major supermarket in the UK except for Morrisons, which are oddly sparse around my way, and Co-Op, which is just a glorified corner shop3.
The findings of my investigation (we’re calling it Poppergate and I regret nothing, thank you very much) were staggering… but not in the way I was expecting.
Because, dear reader, I was wrong. I thought they’d all be at it, skimming chicken from the mouths of hungry Brits up and down the land. But no. There is actually a surprising range of variation out there; as I found out while counting dozens of tiny breaded chunks.
The Muse wandered into our kitchen while I was knee deep in vital research, the kitchen counter carpeted in beige. Quite understandably, she asked me what I was doing.
“Auditing chicken,” I replied.
At which point she likened me to an unemployed Ben Wyatt from Parks & Recreation, who chewed up days inventing the Cones of Dunshire. A comparison helpfully illustrated by Alexandra when I put that little anecdote out on Notes:
Now, this devastatingly astute pair of Jiminy Crickets on my shoulder may have a point, but I’d counter that not long after creating his greatest achievement, Ben secured himself a job. Also, I’ll never be cool enough to own a Letters to Cleo t-shirt.
Back to the greatest miscarriage of justice since the Hand of God.
In my old life, part of my job was to take complex information and make it easily digestible for non-technical audiences. So I tapped those latent skills and made you lot a stakeholder dashboard.
Waitrose is the obvious outlier here. They are so sure of themselves that they do not even tell you how much popcorn chicken is in the box. It is Schrodinger’s snack: you know you’re getting chicken, but how much and for how many people is in the hands of the gods. Honestly, I got quite excited counting them out. Also, Waitrose were the only one to supply a pot of dipping sauce. You pay big money, you get just rewards.
M&S would never be so gauche as to specify an actual amount of popcorn chicken. How terribly common to count one’s snacks. They do state on the box that it ‘serves 27 (approx)’. Let me tell you something, lads - twenty-seven people aren’t going to gather round that little box and share. You have the most delicious offering by a mile, but if you suggested me and twenty-six mates dole out morsels nicely, you’d get the beige buffet version of Captain Rhodes in Day of the Dead.
Still, at least you didn’t lie to my face like some of your contemporaries.
Everyone else, and I do mean everyone, was off their stated number, and I don’t give a fuck about asterisks or those weird double-crucifix things4. The interesting thing, is the split.
The established elites, Sainsbury’s and Tesco, appear to be ripping us off on the regular. That was the fourth packet of chicken bites from Sainsbury’s in as many weeks, and all of them are down by two. They are basically Robert Maxwell, skimming our poultry pension (an incredible pun, if I do say so myself) for their own means. Their Kyiv bites were accurately counted out, but they were awful and I am still way down on my dealings with them. Tesco too, were down on their stated amount. These two have had it too good for too long.
If you want my advice, hit the budget upstarts. Across Asda, Aldi and Lidl I ended up with eight bites/poppers/straws more than promised, a bounty that I didn’t expect in my wildest dreams. Nearly a sandwich worth of chicken. Clearly, this mob have our collective back.
Bottom line is, in 21st century Britain when times are tight, don’t trust the established household names - they’ve grown lazy and complacent. You’re a commodity to them and the middle of the road is a wasteland. Either invest wisely and enjoy your premiums, or go cheap and cheerful and reap the benefits.
Because I fear it’s not just chicken. Scroll back up to that picture of me on the scene. Look at those mini eggs bites. There’s cocktail sausages and mini sausage rolls just out of shot. All starred up with that cowardly asterisk. I fear the grift runs deep. But that’s a conversation for another day.
Right now I only have one question: what am I going to do with 169 bits of breaded chicken?
Thanks for being here. It’s long been established that my ego is vast yet fragile, so please show some love before you go - reader interaction makes this gig so much more fun. Have your say in the comments, or restack the piece to help people find it. Or you can just bang the like button on your way out, even that will help the algos find me. If you’re really flush and feel like funding more cutting edge investigative journalism, then please consider hitting my Ko-Fi button. Cheers, hope to see you again soon.
Slow Horses is incredible.
Not sure why I’m explaining anything here - dude has 6.6m YouTube subscribers. He doesn’t need Mr 486 Ledgeheads explaining anything, does he?
I might get to Co-Op and their demand pricing for my next excoriating exposé, because I see you shysters knocking baked beans out for two quid a tin every now and again, and that is simply not cricket.
This guy ‡. Actually called a diesis, punctuation fans.
i once had a ROLO with NO TOFFEE IN THE MIDDLE- no one believed me ... till now?
Thank you for doing the Lord's work and exposing this corruption!