"22 wings for €9": less than €0.50 each, according to a forum user

A forum user claims to have ordered 22 chicken wings for 9 euros

How can a fast-food chain serve 22 breaded chicken wings for 9 euros, when according to this forum user's calculation, butcher's chicken is more expensive? His math is kindergarten-level: less than 0.50 euros per wing, with Colonel Sanders' recipe included. Some see it as an unrepeatable offer, others call it eating reheated leftovers. Both can be true at the same time, and that's the beauty of it.

The math: 22 units for 9 euros

Ordered through the app and picked up in the car, no queues and without exchanging a word with anyone: 22 units for 9 euros. The forum user assures that, by weight, it's cheaper than butcher's chicken and that not even Mercadona's refrigerated chicken beats it. Add a breading with a spicy kick and the offer becomes, in his account, an anomaly.

It's not that fast food has become cheap out of generosity. It's that it competes with a price difference that fresh meat struggles to match.

Versus the butcher: what the price per weight says

The central argument of those defending the offer is that the product, by weight, is cheaper than butcher's chicken. The counterargument doesn't dispute the numbers, it disputes the substance: twenty-two pieces of wing, bone and skin, with just enough protein and too much breadcrumbs. A kilo of pork tenderloin for the same 9 euros appears as an alternative for those who don't trust the miracle price.

The fine print of the promotion

The cheap format relies on curbside pickup: pre-ordering on the app, priority delivery, and zero contact with the counter, according to the forum user taking advantage of it. Those who have tried the traditional system report the opposite: queues even after paying, reheated wings, and an atmosphere that doesn't invite you to sit down.

That's the part no sign advertises. The savings are paid for in time, patience, or giving up a seat. And in a recent ad, which a forum user claims to remember —with a piggy bank and everything— and which he found unpleasant.

Colonel Sanders, more history than secret sauce

The secret recipe is one of the house's claims to fame. The thread reviews the biography of its creator: he became rich late in life, after a career of unlikely jobs —gas station attendant involved in a shootout with a competitor's business, lawyer fired after fighting with a client, or so the story goes—. The legend of the breading rests as much on the flavor as on that resume.

Hence the defense of the promotion mixes with that of the myth: the price helps, and so does the story.

The user himself suspects that whoever serves the offer loses money on every order and warns that it won't last long: it's worth "taking advantage of the bug while it lasts." Now all that's missing, he adds, is for the competition to match the price.