The old man rambled on and was a great source of amusement to the kids.
“…They beam it right into your head. … an insatiable desire for potato crisps. You know they’re doing it, but still you must have the crisps. It’s like a seed inside your brain that threatens to split your skull apart. They used to use commercials with cute kids, mass marketing, and flyers on poles. Persuasion seems harmless enough. Then they got devious with subliminal messages, but this is worse, much worse, insidious even. There is no free will if you must have the crisps. You think you have free will, but there’s that itch inside your brain, and it will become intolerable if you don’t fill the void – the chasm – in your very soul that yearns for potato crisps. …” The old man went on like that with his grey stubble looking like a wire-brush and his skin like soft creased brown leather. He smelled of a toxic mix of BO and urine.
“That’s old news, old man.” One of the kids said, and they all moved off in a herd to get some cheesy-puffs.