For some reason I’ve got this real craving for Toffos. Unfortunately, being some 10,000 miles from the nearest packet, it’s likely to remain unsatiated. Despite globalization and the flattening of the world, some things just don’t seem to travel intercontinentally – and sweets (candy, snoep, what you will) seems to be one of them. Although there’s not much I miss about England, sweets are something I certainly do. Not enough to move back there, you understand, but enough to give me pangs of nostalgia. Or of hunger. It’s difficult to tell, this late in the afternoon.
I spent several years in Belgium, where they claim to make the best chocolate in the world. Twaddle. The best chocolate in the world is Galaxy made in England (it’s also made in some other countries, but they apparently licensed the name and not the recipe, as it doesn’t taste the same). In Belgium we’d make weekly pilgrimages to the British store just to stock up on massively-overpriced Galaxy bars and bags of Minstrels (which the girls in my Flemish class went mad for), even though we had to pass several Belgian chocolate shops en route. So much for Belgian (chocolate) supremacy.
I also miss Curly Wurlys. I don’t know why, as I never particularly liked them when I was a kid. There’s just something very British about them. Maybe it’s the thought of Terry Scott in his school shorts and cap, and his leather satchel stuffed with the things.  Anyway, I’d wank off a tramp for one, now. Ewww. No, not on your life. I’m joking.  It’s just something Kaiser Chief Ricky Wilson was rumoured to say about fame. It’s just such an appalling expression it makes me laugh every time I think about it, so I had to use it. Anyway, I’d kill for a Curly Wurly right about now. (Oh, so saying you’d kill for something is acceptable??)
Double-Deckers are something else I could eat by the bucketful now. But you just don’t get them here. Probably because the Americans have little concept of a ‘double-decker’ anything, let alone a chocolate bar. I guess they could re-name it (probably to an ‘Uppy-Downy’ or something equally literal) like they do a lot of stuff they steal from us. Ask for a Mars Bar here and you’ll be met with a blank stare. Ask for a Milky Way and you’ll get your Mars Bar. So what if you want a Milky Way? You have to ask for a Three Musketeers (in the plural – ask for a Three Musketeer and you’ll probably also get the blank stare). Don’t ask me why they do this. Probably so they can claim they invented them. Like Snickers bars (make a stand – ask for a Marathon) or Starburst (Opal Fruits by another name), or even Whoppers (inferior Maltersers).
But you’re probably better off not asking for chocolate over here at all. Even when they have stuff that looks like the British equivalent, it isn’t. It’s usually made under license by Hershey’s, which means that it’s all powdery and overly-dark with very low milk content (certainly not the “Glass and a half of full cream milk” Cadbury’s promise). Which I guess is OK if you like that kind of thing. Which the Americans seem to. Mainly because they’ve never tasted real chocolate, the poor, deluded fools.
Also, despite being in Texas, I cannot get a Texan Bar for love nor money. Nor a Wagon Wheel (although a Moon Pie [pronounced ‘Moon Paaah’] comes quite close). Now if I wanted jalapeno-flavo(u)red Jelly Beans, I’d be laughing. Much like Ricky Wilson’s tramp friend…
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