Postcard from Norfolk - Cod wars? Or just chip rivalry?

It always struck me as odd that a single city could support two football clubs, and that the fans would choose one or the other when at heart it’s just eleven blokes and a ball and who the hell cares what colour top they are wearing. The exception is of course Glasgow where the decision is based on what religion you were indoctrinated into at an early age – Rangers or Celtic, which then determined what church you went to.

In Wells the rivalry is between the two quayfront fish and chips shops; French’s or Platten’s. Maybe rivalry is too strong a word, as at the end of the day choice may boil down to which has seating available if it’s raining. Platten’s is much larger inside than French’s, and has a more modern feel, some might like that but then again other prefer a more intimate setting and windows that can see steaming up as the weather outside makes sitting inside sucking on a chip seem like a terribly good idea. But this doesn’t explain the happy looking locals I kept encountering with their Platten’s fish and chip boxes, taking their take-away away, or taking it to an al fresco setting to enjoy.

The basic differences, as far as I can work it out, are this. French’s serve their fish and chips in a cardboard tray wrapped in paper. They also, and I declare an interest as a big fan and the holder of a French’s loyalty card, make the best fish and chips in the world, with traditional chunky battered fish. Platten’s serve fish and chips in a cardboard box, a bit like a smaller, taller, pizza box and their batter is smoother. Perfectly acceptable.

I like to think that there is some unwritten history here, that you’re ether a French’s man or a Platten’s man not because of your taste in battering techniques, but because of the side you took in the feud years ago where the daughter of one chip shop dynasty took up with the son of another and it all ended badly, possibly with a scuffle and a battered savaloy.

Or it may be some sort of religious thing, but I prefer to think that something happened in a traditional small town manner to establish fanatical loyalties. Mine was established the fist time I tried French’s fish and chips and assured with a card that means every tenth fish and chips is free.