"It'll never be beaten", I was told.
Granted, when we left Peru, the home of Fanny tuna, and a few weeks later entered western-thinking, civilised Argentina, I was unsure we'd come across any more entries into the SRSFPN library. It's just not the Argentinian way to produce a drink called Squirt or a light salty snack named Kraps.
But maybe I was wrong. There we were driving along in the High Andes, when we spotted a very special minibus. We were all looking at a huge condor hovering overhead at the time, so only got a blurry glance of the Wanka bus as it whizzed passed us.
But an hour later, as we were sat eating lunch, what should pull up, but the very same bus. A gift from the Gods, we thought.
Judging by the unimpressed look on the driver's face when I took a sneaky shot, I wasn't the fist juvenile-minded Englishman to find his employer's name amusing.