On my first shopping expedition a week or so into uni, I noticed that despite having a healthy new loan at my disposal by the time I reached the checkout there was still a substantial number of Tesco Value products in my trolley. There was a bag of onions, some chicken breasts and, of course, kitchen towels, which despite having the absorbency of a brick, are a typical sight in student kitchens countrywide.

The fact is that we buy Tesco Value products, consciously or otherwise, because of the price – not because we care about quality. The clue’s in the name. As students, somehow we believe we have the right to trash our bodies while they are still fit enough to take it. Tesco appears to understand this, offering a range of products across the store at remarkably decent prices.

I wanted to take this idea to the extreme. I wondered: would it be possible to live off nothing but Tesco Value products for a whole week? I needed to know whether forking out the extra 20p or so to buy the normal Tesco version makes any difference. And, more importantly, I wanted to know whether Tesco Value is as good value as they make out. In order to do this I’d have to eat, sleep, and drink Tesco Value.

Some limitations would have to be set: clothing worn would be my own as well as cutlery and stationery. Anything other than that would be fair game, including shampoo, soap, alcohol, and, of course, food. Whatever Tesco offered me, I would take. If there was a product I wanted that wasn’t offered by the supermarket giant, such as milk, and certain fruit and vegetables, I’d just have to do without. This, as it turned out, was exactly what I did.

Unfortunately for me, the week I went on this life-changing shopping endeavour my particular branch lacked quite a few Tesco Value fruit and vegetables. Onions yes, oranges, no. Argh. In my mind, no fruit means no vitamins. No vitamins equals bad health and eventual slow death. My answer? Reach for Tesco Value multivitamins. At the princely sum of 44p, they have to be one of my favourite Tesco Value finds. After all, vitamins are vitamins, no matter who makes them, right?

Plus, I thought I might need them - just to make sure about the not dying thing. After all, as Saint Tesco patronisingly says herself, “Every little helps.”

Breakfast without milk proved difficult. If I have breakfast at all it tends to be soggy cereal shovelled down my throat from a mug as I walk to a lecture, or possibly an under-toasted slice of bread with some cut-price jam slapped on it. Having said that, Tesco Value cornflakes taste disgusting with or without milk. I do not encourage anyone to eat them, although I’m sure they’d make very cheap confetti. Their version of Coco Pops is to be recommended however, as it has two crucial points in its favour: it contains sugar, and is packaged in a plastic bag, allowing for easy access as you place fistfuls of the stuff in your mouth.

Tesco Value offers two varieties of soup. Both are bad in my opinion. The soup in sachet form results in a slightly chalky concoction that leaves an unpleasant scum on the bottom of your bowl. This particular scum is oh-so-difficult to remove when it comes to washing up - using Tesco Value washing liquid.

The bubbly gunk that comes out of the bottle is a decent buy too, especially if you are in halls. This is because people have a tendency when confronted with what seems like an impossible foe - say, a noodle-encrusted wok or the remains of last night’s pasta bake - to lash on buckets of the stuff, normally retreating swiftly afterwards, hoping that leaving the enemy alone to stew will result in magic cleaning. Tesco Value washing-up liquid comes in a large bottle and is, of course, very cheap providing more than enough anti-bacterial ammunition.

The other form of soupy goodness comes in a can. I tried the tomato variety and regretted it. It was certainly the right colour, but that’s where the similarities with tomatoes ended. Aside from being flavourless, which resulted in me throwing half of the contents away, it also left me with the strange sensation that someone may have surreptitiously farted into my mouth.

My Tesco Value casserole attempt didn’t really go to plan either. After chopping up my Tesco Value onions (they come recommended) and wiping away my Tesco Value tears, I realised just why all had gone awry. It was the sausages. Do not trust the sausages. If there is to be one thing that you take away from reading this article, it should be this: “The sausages are not to be trusted”. They disintegrate as soon as they come anywhere near heat, and as I, for my part, prefer my sausages cooked, this proved to be a nuisance. By the time the experiment was over, the pot having been sprinkled with the Tesco Value salt and pepper, my casserole had turned to gruel and was only fit for a toastie.

Thankfully, I’m currently having a love-affair with toasties. However, there was another hurdle to crash into: keeping the slices of bread intact. Much like the sausages, Tesco Value bread is allergic to heat and has a tendency to fall apart if it’s near human body warmth. This makes for an interesting culinary experiment. Having said that, despite its irregular shape by the end, the toastie did taste good, mainly thanks to the Tesco Value Red Leicester I added.

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