The crackle of pigskin

I confess it: I’m an addict. Not to hard drugs. Not to alcohol. Not even to The Raveonettes, although my current obsession with them comes close. No, I’m addicted to that Black Country delicacy, pork scratchings. I just can’t get enough of God’s own pub snack of choice (alongside crisps) – all that delicious salty, crunchy goodness. Even the hairy bits taste great. It’s just a shame that I can practically feel the fat lining my arteries every time I eat a packet. They always say that accepting you have a problem is the first and most important step. So, can anyone recommend an appropriate counselling group?