mostly david ephgrave

Today, I witnessed someone buy a Bounty by choice. It happened whilst I was standing in the queue at my local garage - which is stocked with pretty much every well-known confectionary you could think of, yet despite being spoilt for options, the woman behind me still told her friend she wanted a Bounty. I never knew such a thing was possible. I thought they were only ever eaten by those faced with slim pickings after sifting through boxes of Celebrations at Christmas. Yet here was a woman who would most likely have eaten the Bounties first; she must be a sadist. I mean, let's not beat around the bush: Bountys are fucking horrible; in fact they're the Devil's chocolate. Eating one's akin to biting into a bar of soap. Up until now, the only person I've ever known to enjoy one is my dad, which is why I'll usually foist upon him the aforementioned Christmas treat dregs, and it's possible he only eats them out of politeness. The woman in the garage, howev...

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...