Everyone loves them. But do we really care how many calories each individual Malted Milk has? In truth, we don't want to know the nutritional content of a packet of Chocolate Digestives - or any biscuit for that matter. Once a packet of biscuits is opened, we are going to eat the entire packet. We don't do "have some now, then save the rest for later" - we prefer the "eat the lot now, and then consider having another packet". So it wouldn't matter if they put the Skull and Crossbones and the words "Danger of Death" on the packet - we'd still eat the lot.
What we want on a packet of biscuits is information that is useful to us, the consumer. Like how many seconds you can dunk the biscuit for before it falls into the brew. There should be a number on the packet that tells you how many seconds you can dunk for.
Of course, that number will vary from biscuit to biscuit; a Rich Tea biscuit will only be a few seconds, whilst a Hob Nob is liable to drink your brew for you - and then ask for another!
Also, having a recommended dunk duration limit (or "DDL") would inspire people to A) test it out, and B) try and beat it. This would instantly make tea or coffee drinking even more enjoyable and more sociable. This in turn, would increase sales of biscuits which would help the economy and in the end save the country.
A Knighthood? For me?
I was a little stressed earlier, after a few problems with my mobile phone, so I decided to have a cup of coffee. I put the coffee in the cup, poured the water on, and went to the fridge to get the milk.
And nearly ripped the door off.
I had no milk. The one, tiny little thing that would have soothed my stressful mind - and I didn't bloody have any. As I put my trainers on to go to the shops to get some, a voice whispered in my head:
As you know, I've been off the Chocolate this year - haven't had a single bit in 2012. But I still get the craving for it occasionally - especially when I'm stressed. As I walked to the shops, the voice in my head got louder, naming all of my favourite chocolate bars, and justifying why having some wouldn't hurt.
In the shop, I walked to get the milk - trying to ignore the chocolate bars that called out to me as I walked past like a man trying to ignore his ex-wife when he's out with his girlfriend. They shouted and whistled and called my name playfully as I paid for the milk - and the screamed abuse and insults as I left without looking at them. In hindsight, the packet of Rich Tea biscuits I also bought might have pissed them off a little.
By the time I got home, the voice in my head was sulking. As I poured the milk into my coffee, it uttered one last insult; "Loser".
And it was right - so far this year, without chocolate and with all the walking I am doing, I've lost half a stone.