I don't like custard creams. They are the under class of the biscuit world. If a person serves you custard creams, you can assume that they have no respect for you, because either:
- they had to make a last minute dash to Spar as they forgot you were coming.
- they are saving the upmarket biscuits for somebody more, well, upmarket.
The only way I can get though all the various meetings, training days and conferences which are a dispiritingly large part of my job at present, is the prospect of discovering new and exciting biscuits during the coffee break. I can just about stand the group icebreaker exercises, the blinking Power Point displays and the icy terror which wraps itself around my tongue when I realise that I've been asked to give an opinion, if I know there is an array of interesting snackage being laid out in the other room for my perusal.
If, what I find on offer are a few packets of custard creams tipped onto a wilting doily, then you'd better make sure all the windows and doors are firmly closed, because I'll be attempting to lob myself out of one post-haste.
Why not a Jaffa Cake? They only have 1g of fat per cake. As well as offering your guest a more zesty choice of biscuit, and hence showing them you respect their tastebuds, you're also letting them know you care about their health.
Or a chocolate digestive? Grandma's favourite, and rightfully so, withstands multiple dunkings and gets stuck in your fillings.
But a custard bloody cream? They crumble on contact, coat the roof of your mouth and I've found more flavour in rice paper. It's the equivalent of getting a Terry's Chocolate Orange for Christmas. You can officially consider yourself an after-thought.
