This being Easter Monday, what better way to celebrate than a column devoted to describing the flavour of assorted novelty snacks? It's what Christ himself would've wanted. Although I suspect even the messiah himself might prefer crucifixion to the horror of tasting Walkers BBQ kangaroo crisps. The moment the first sliver of fried potato hit his tongue, delivering its payload of marsupial flavouring, he'd moan "forgive them father, for they know not what they do" through a mouthful of wet crumbs.

Last year's "Do us a Flavour" campaign, in which the company launched six temporary new varieties, was eventually won by the hideous "Builder's Breakfast", which tasted like a fried egg in an envelope. This year, they're celebrating the World Cup by launching 15 – yes, 15 – new flavours, each ostensibly representing a different nation. I was alerted to this exciting development by an email from Walker's PR agency – I'm presumably on their radar after reviewing the "Do Us a Flavour" varieties last year. On that occasion, I went out and bought the crisps myself. This time I'd get them for free. Following a brief phone call, a courier delivered a mock suitcase full of crisps to my door. So you can view everything that follows as essentially free publicity for Walkers, albeit the kind of publicity that explicitly states that their new crisps taste revolting. Well, most of them. A couple of them are quite interesting, as you'll see in a moment:

Japanese chicken teriyaki

The first ones I tried, and not a good start. There's no identifiable teriyaki element – just a whiff of chicken stock. They should've tried tackling a sushi-themed salmon-and-wasabi flavour. Instead they've created something that tastes about as authentically Japanese as Lenny Henry. Cowards.

Scottish haggis

After a bad start, another step down. These tasted of nothing, yet somehow managed to make that "nothing" deeply unpleasant. It's like a small piece of fried potato failing to recall a repressed abuse memory while sitting on your tongue.

Argentinian flame-grilled steak

At last a vague stab at accuracy: there's a faint whiff of steak, although identifying the "flame-grilled" aspect would require a leap of the imagination so vast you might as well use it to imagine something more exciting, like sex with a movie star or a holiday on Venus. Still: the Argentinians take the lead.

English roast beef and yorkshire pudding

Did Rio Ferdinand create this himself? The beef hits you first: not dreadful, but quickly overpowered by the oleaginous "yorkshire pudding" element. The result is a mixture of cold Sunday roast and stale grease: like inhaling from a pub dustbin on Monday morning. Also, it's surely not wise to use the word "roast" in any product that notionally represents the England World Cup squad. It's not looking good for our boys.

German bratwurst sausage

Ah. These actually taste like sausages. Not suitable for vegetarians either. Glancing at the ingredients reveals no pork, although they do contain the downright sinister "poultry extract". What exactly is "poultry extract"? And how is it "extracted"? Walkers must tell us. Preferably in the form of a televised re-enactment starring Gary Lineker.

Dutch edam/Welsh rarebit

Yeah, whatever: these are both just "cheese flavour". The former is mild, but still tastes more like "real" cheese than edam itself does. The rarebit offering tastes like a flattened Wotsit with a splash of Worcestershire sauce. Perhaps that's a traditional Welsh dish too.

South African sweet chutney

South African what? They've made this one up, surely. It's actually OK-ish: a bit like spicy ketchup flavour.

Italian spaghetti bolognese/ Brazilian salsa

Tomato time. These both taste like scratch'n'sniff pizza aroma: a lame committee meeting of watered-down herbs. The "Brazilian salsa" has a slightly more sugary feel, but otherwise I couldn't tell the difference. My face was openly sobbing by this point, mind.

Spanish chicken paella

It would've been fun to annoyed the Spanish by releasing "maltreated donkey" or "slaughtered bull" flavours instead, but no: chicken paella it is. Amazingly, these actually taste like rice. And slightly like chicken. But they don't taste like chicken paella: more like chicken fried rice. Maybe Walkers were expecting China to qualify.

Irish stew

No.

French garlic baguette

Garlic Bread diluted by a factor of approximately 10,000. So weak and ineffectual, it's almost homeopathic. They missed a trick: a novelty "snail" or "frog's legs" flavour would at least have grim curiosity value, much like . . .

Australian BBQ kangaroo

See? You want to know what these taste like, don't you? A: watery barbecue sauce with a dim hint of meat. There's no actual kangaroo in them, so the "kangaroo" is delivered entirely by your subconscious. They could call it "boiled pilot's leg" and the effect would be similar.

American cheeseburger

By far the most interesting entry, if only for the sake of accuracy: these precisely capture that instantly recognizable McDonald's aroma. Not Burger King. Not Wendy's. McDonald's. If they were an official McDonald's product, you'd begrudgingly admire their authenticity. Instead, you're left wondering whether Walkers will get sued.

So that's the lot. If these crisps are in any way representative of their associated national squads, the World Cup itself will be an underwhelming kickaround which the US will eventually win on points. Presumably the company's crisp technicians are already working on a series of stunt flavours to honour the 2012 Olympics. Here's hoping they steer clear of yet more bastardised takes on national dishes and go for topicality instead. How about American tea party flavour? Iranian uranium? Chinese dissident? Give it your best shot, Walkers, and with any luck you'll start a war.