mostly david ephgrave

For Christmas, my wife was given a box of truffles called Chocolate Delicious that were anything but. They were bad enough to sue the chocolatier for trade descriptions, and the person they came from for the trauma involved. What hurt most was my wife told me I could help myself, yet I resisted opening them all day while she was at work, as I didn’t think it was fair for me to be the one to do it. For eight hours they sat in my peripheral vision, taunting me with their apparent chocolate deliciousness, and all along it was a con. I was suckered in by an adjective; Barnum was right. It wasn’t until the evening that I pierced the polythene and got my sticky fingers into the box. I went for the safest sounding flavour first: the chocolate cream. This turned out to be a grave misjudgement; replace the word ‘chocolate’ with ‘cardboard’ and you’d have a more accurate representation of the taste. It was like snacking on dust. Further exploration reveale...