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Posted: Tue 25th Aug 2026
10 min read
When Dave Willis spotted yet another Walkers van parked outside a pub in the mid-1990s, he turned to his wife Judy with his familiar refrain: "I could do that."
Her response changed everything:
"Do it or shut up about it!”
Today, more than two decades later, Dave's Salty Dog brand of hand-cooked crisps is thriving in pubs, delis and sandwich bars across Britain, and exporting to France, Italy and Spain.
A £5,000 loan from his landlord and an old van fitted with shelves have become a business that's weathered three factory fires, a pandemic, Brexit, and countless regulatory hurdles.
Dave attributes his success to a simple formula.
"Just putting in the legwork," he says, speaking from his home office in Buckinghamshire. "And perhaps not being too ambitious."
It's an unconventional approach in an age of unicorn start-ups and venture capital fever, but for Dave, slow and steady has won the race.
His journey began in 1996, armed with £1,000 in savings, a crucial loan from Michael Sweeting, the farmer whose land he rented, and experience from stints at KP and a small company called Tavern Snacks.
"I learnt it was easy to just walk into a pub unannounced with samples," he recalls. "Maybe 30% of the time you'd get an order straight away."
Dave's timing proved fortuitous. Hand-cooked crisps were just emerging, with only Kettle Chips and a small Oxford-based brand called Jonathan Crisps on the market. He began distributing Jonathan Crisps to London pubs from his base in Chesham.
But by 1999, a problem emerged. The crisps were cooked in peanut oil, and pubs were growing nervous about allergens.
"I was losing customers because of it," Dave says. "I kept asking John at Jonathan's to switch oils, but he was adamant it created a better crisp."
When Devon's Burts Crisps entered the market with non-peanut oil products, Dave faced a choice: lose more business or strike out on his own.
He chose the latter, partnering with Real Crisps in Wales to manufacture under his own brand. In 2003, Salty Dog was born.
The arrangement proved providential in 2010 when disaster struck.
"I was driving to a trade show when the phone rang," Dave recalls. "It was our account manager saying, 'I'm standing here watching the factory burn to the ground.'"
It was the first of three factory fires the business would endure.
Remarkably, Real Crisps had been acquired by Irish giant Tayto in 2006, providing a lifeline.
"Because they had other factories, we just reprinted our packaging, reformulated the flavours, and moved production to Northern Ireland," Dave explains.
"If Real Crisps had still been small, we'd have been in real trouble."
Like many artisan food producers, Dave flirted with supermarket listings.
Sainsbury's negotiated for months before the buyer changed and interest evaporated. Tesco expressed interest, but in peanuts rather than crisps.
"I remember going into the store and seeing our peanuts next to Tesco's own label, which was a bigger bag for less money," Dave says. "I wished they'd taken the crisps."
The experience led to a crucial decision: focus on pubs, delis and independent retailers where margins weren't squeezed to oblivion.
"Some food products have no choice but supermarkets," he says. "We're lucky there are enough pubs and delis to do really well without them."
Today, Salty Dog operates with remarkable efficiency: six employees, all working remotely, with manufacturing, logistics and storage entirely outsourced. It's a model forced on Dave by circumstance rather than design.
In 2020, at the height of COVID, the farm where he'd gradually expanded from a single lock-up to two barns was sold.
"I was desperately trying to sell stock that was going out of date with no customers," Dave remembers. "Then that was landed on me. I thought, 'Oh God, what do we do now?'"
The answer was a third-party logistics company and home working.
"I never would have dreamt of doing it if it hadn't been forced on us," he admits. "But it's worked really well. We can focus on customers and selling rather than worrying about rents and rates."
It's also insulated the business from recent regulatory headwinds.
Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) regulations, which make brand owners responsible for packaging waste, proved "traumatic" for Dave.
"I kept uploading spreadsheets to the government portal and getting rejected," he says. "Eventually someone at Defra told me most people use compliance schemes. Now it's much easier."
Brexit has similarly reshaped priorities. Dave once exhibited at SIAL in Paris and Anuga in Germany, actively pursuing European customers.
"Since Brexit, we decided there's so much business in this country, let's just do that because it's easier," he says. "There aren't so many barriers."
Yet Salty Dog still exports to France, Italy and Spain.
"It seems a bit crazy, but once it's all in place, it works fine," Dave says. Though he notes the absurdity of needing veterinary certificates for cheese and onion crisps.
For aspiring entrepreneurs, Dave offers hard-won wisdom.
Trade shows have been crucial, he says, providing steady customer acquisition without the expense of marketing agencies.
"We could possibly have spent more on marketing and had a more stratospheric rise," he reflects. "But keeping it simple led to more organic, sustainable growth."
Finding the right people matters enormously, particularly in remote teams.
"When someone's not pulling their weight, you only realise months down the line when sales aren't coming in," Dave warns. His current team has been with him for years, a loyalty he attributes to regular communication and respect.
Most importantly, Dave advocates knowing when enough is enough.
"Someone more driven might have taken it to different places," he acknowledges. "We could have a big factory, 100 employees, and my income would be much higher. But so would my stress levels."
It's an approach shaped by early mentorship.
Michael Sweeting, the farmer who lent Dave £5,000 and provided invaluable business advice, influenced his philosophy profoundly.
When Dave's bank tried to introduce charges after a free first year, Michael encouraged him to negotiate. The bank refused. Dave switched banks.
"It's little things like that which really help when you don't know what you're doing," Dave says. "Advice like that is invaluable."
Twenty-three years on, with three factory fires, a pandemic, Brexit and evolving regulations navigated, Salty Dog endures. Dave still occasionally hits the road, visiting 10 pubs a day just as he did in 1996.
"I really enjoyed it," he says. "It took me back to my roots."
For a man who started with a battered van and a landlord's faith, those roots run remarkably deep.
Put in the legwork: Door-to-door selling still works. Ten pubs a day means 15 new customers by week's end
Trade shows deliver: They've been Salty Dog's most successful marketing route, providing steady growth without huge advertising spend
Hire self-starters: When your team works remotely, you need people who pull their weight without supervision
Know when to step back: Not every opportunity is worth taking. Supermarkets weren't right for Salty Dog; pubs were
Find a mentor: Early advice from someone who understands business can be worth more than capital
Keep it simple: Organic growth may be slower, but it's sustainable and less stressful
Outsource smartly: You don't need to own everything. Third-party logistics can free you to focus on sales
