Is it time to declare war on theatre popcorn and crisps?

I mean, what better way to take your mind off fears for an apocalyptic future than to wallow in the misery of an apocalyptic past?

Given the obvious limitations, I had my doubts that a stage play could truly mimic the battlefields of the First World War as depicted in Michael Mopurgo’s classic tale.

But evoke the horrors it did with clever lighting, video backdrops and that unmistakable soul-crushing sound of the Somme trenches, you know, that constant rustling of crisp packets and popcorn!

You must remember that from your history lessons? Bayonets are fixed, the whistle sounds and those brave souls go over the top, marching into the no-man’s land with their faces buried in a bucket of popcorn, slurping on an extra large coke!

Great War poet Wilfred Owen wrote of ‘stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle’ and the ‘shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells’ but not too much on the air crackling with the terrifying rustle of crisp packets or the crunch of molar on Monster Munch.

And yet, as soon as the action started in this production, the chomping began in earnest.

Far from being a spoiler, I loved every distracting rustle and crunch. I had seen it coming.

After getting into our seats, I nudged my current life-partner in the ribs and nodded down the line. We were at the end of a row of what looked like a school trip of youngsters each with various sweet snacks on their laps, hands and mouths poised for attack. Her eyes rolled.

What I loved about the barrage of noise that erupted, was that it only began once the show started. Before the curtain went up, there was only the muffled murmur of conversation. The lights dimmed, the spotlight fell on a lone officer on stage and the show began.

Much like the piercing whistle of the officers to signal that terrifying advance for troops, the first words of the play were the cue for the sweet munchers to begin. And boy, did they go ‘over the top.’

So much so, that my partner got up and escaped to a spare seat a few rows back. I didn’t blame the kids. Stuffing your face with sweets is a huge part of any trip to the cinema or theatre for youngsters. While the performance can be hit or miss, a gaping maw filled with crisps and confectionary never disappoints.

The concessionary stands might as well hand out woodwind instruments along with their nachos and popcorn buckets. ‘Erm could I have spicy nachos, an extra large bucket of popcorn and an oboe, please?’

‘Two trombones and a Kit Kat thanks.’

The noisy gnashers continued oblivious of the accusing stares and exaggerated sighs and head shaking directed their way. Thankfully, my good lady politely reminded the kiddywinks at the interval to remember others when snacking on their treats, and they duly kept the noise to a minimum, but what to do?

Replace crisps, buckets of popcorn and fizzy drinks with bowls of soup, open sandwiches and a trifle will cut the food noise, but I’ll wager the resulting demented choirs of wailing kids would be much worse.

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