What?
Crispy, tasty, Indian cracker things made, (I think) from lentils.

When?
13:15, 28th of August 2006 - November 2006

Why?
A typical 'bolt from the blue' obsession, for no discernible reason. It just happened.

What happened?
On the fateful day in question, Tessa, Spanner, and Saz had come to help decorate Deb's and my house. A morning of slapping up emulsion and gloss had left everyone with a healthy appetite, and Big John was due for lunch, so naturally we needed to make sure there was plenty of grub laid on. Assisted by Saz, I knocked out a curry. As well as rice and naan breads, we were also producing some of the crispy items mentioned above.
Now you may well know them as poppadums, and Indian takeaways all seem to have their own view on exactly what they should be referred to as. Pappadums, Pappadoms, Puppadams - it appears that everyone feels differently. As everyone sat down, Spanner and I began discussing the matter, and suddenly it happened.
"Papads" said Tessa,
"Some people call them papads".
In any normal company, the remark would have passed largely unnoticed, but this was no normal company. I felt my mind start working in the all too familiar way. I turned to Span.
"Papads" I said, thoughtfully.
Spanner looked back at me. "Oh no." she said.
"Oh no." said Tessa.
"Oh no." groaned Deb, with her head in her hands.
"Aaah." said Big John, around a mouthful of the newly offending crispbread.
"Yup." I said. A new obsession had been born.

 

Following some mucking about with the remaining papads, captured above for your delectation, we went back to the decorating. Spanner and I held a conversation consisting largely, but not exclusively, of the word "papad". I also recalled that the Guinness book of records contains a record for something like "most consecutive uses of a single word in a meaningful sentence". The whole thing revolved around two typesetters who couldn't decide whether a mark on a piece of paper meant "set in italic type" or "set in bold type". Neither of them wants to give any headway, so you end up with the following situation:

"Fred, where Bill had had had had, had had had had; had had had had had had printed over it in the final proof, no one would have been surprised."

I tried overruling both Fred and Bill by substituting the word "papad", in ordinary type, for the word "had". Therefore:

"Fred, where Bill papad papad papad papad, papad papad papad papad; papad papad papad papad papad papad printed over it in the final proof, no one would have been surprised."

or, if you prefer:

"Fred, where Bill papad papad papad papad, papad papad papad papad; papad papad papad papad papad papad printed over it in the final proof, no one would have been surprised."

To round off the experience, Span and I rang HMIM's Teleman, and said "Papad" repeatedly before hanging up. Teleman, being the top notch team member that he is, understood where we were coming from.

In a Jerry Springer style final thought, I had a sudden revelation to share with the team.

"Life's like a papad", I said
"It's got two sides, it's crunchy, and you fry it in hot oil".
"Hmm", said everyone else, with a collective look of disappointment.

When Will it End?
Papad has burned itself out as an obsession, though seeing the word still makes me laugh, and I still have an appetite for them.

Loose Ends
The following loose ends still remain. If you can answer them, please contact me.