A Celebration Of Summer Biscuit Eating

Inspector Crocodile Binoculars helpfully directs you to the items in question

To me, the best of summer biscuit eating is sitting outside somewhere as the dusk gathers, the heat cooling down to something more bearable, and a cup of tea in hand, chatting with my friends. The biscuit itself should be nothing to pretentious, nothing wrapped in shinny packaging with a plastic tray where all the little biscuits sit in separate compartments, and nothing with ‘finest’ written on the box. No, it should be something simpler, the sought of thing you could eat several of in one sitting, Sainsbury’s basics custard creams or digestives would do it, or I wouldn’t object to a fig roll.  

According to the current advertising campaigns we are reaching that time of year when all women become most obsessed with being thin and reaching that ideal coat hanger size, or whatever it is. Subsequently the biscuit and biscuit equivalent products we are being sold make an insignificant fat content more of a priority than actually having something good to dunk in your tea. We are shown immaculate women, wafting about home and workplace, bypassing actually nice looking sustenance and choosing to nibble on little biscuit things that look like dried up bits of cowpat, yum. But so what if they taste like the flaky brown bits off the bottom of my hiking boots, the important thing is that they are so incredibly, so IMENCLEY low in fat that you would put on more weight swallowing your own saliva. Do people really want this? Do people want to eat turd biscuits that are about as much fun as a persistent nose bleed? I certainly don’t, I want to sit in the sun with Elinor and with Inspector Crocodile Binoculars and other friends unknown to this blog, and I want to eat something I like, something like the custard cream, crafted for enjoyment and not for some form of self flagellation in the name of weight loss.

If you want to be healthy go and have a walk in nature, or ride your bike somewhere nice, or even just do a series of star jumps in your bedroom (a highly underrated sport) but please, please, don’t eat the poo crackers of despair, they will do nothing for you.

Your

Gwen