Saturday, October 16, 2010

Hoping And Hoping And Hoping

My colleague Ann presented me with a bag of Revels yesterday. Yeah. Revels. The Russian roulette of chocolate. Bad times in a brown and orange bag. I accepted gracefully, of course. I accept most things gracefully; it's my defeatist nature. "I hope they're okay" she said anxiously, presumably noticing that I hadn't immediately hoovered them into me like I do most other tidbits she presents me with. "They're great!" I lied, and I tucked them into my handbag to give to Andrew later. "I've just been given a packet of Revels" I spat into google chat. "The secret is to keep some of the obviously safe ones in reserve" Colm counseled. The secret is to buy the Friday treats myself, I thought, and not entrust my mid-morning happiness to Ann. I left them in my handbag and sprayed my way through a ricecake instead.

I finished up at lunchtime and in my hurry to be shot of the office, skipped lunch and went to Tesco to do the week's shopping. Have you ever been to Tesco in Finglas? When you're hungry? I bought a month's worth of provisions and stuffed them all into the three bags I'd brought with me, dropping things on the floor and smacking my trolley into toddlers, like a poster child for why one should not shop on an empty stomach. In Finglas. Then I bundled it all into the boot and headed home, furious with the world and everyone in it.

I was stopped at the lights in Phibsboro, quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, when I remembered the Revels in my handbag. The secret is to keep some of the obviously safe ones in reserve! I thought, tearing the bag open with my teeth as I changed up from first and wobbled on through the lights, delighted with myself that I was not going to starve to death on Constitution Hill with a boot full of groceries after all. Two caramel, one malt and three raisin Revels in, the sugar reached my brain and I experienced one of those endorphin rushes that athletes talk about but that I find much easier to achieve with cheap confectionery. I felt wonderful again. So wonderful that I threw caution to the wind and stopped mauling each sweet to try to determine its makeup before popping it in my mouth. I got a chocolate one. And then an orange one (which was a bit mank, but manageable). And then a few more raisins and caramels. There are no coffee ones in here! Delighted with myself, I briefly considered complaining to the makers in the hope they might send me some free sweets, but then I worried that they'd only send coffee ones in an effort to compensate, so I decided against it. And then I tipped the last (two) of the melt-in-my-mouth lovelies into my greedy maw, only to heave a horrified moan and dribble coffee-flavoured chocolate disconsolately down my chin as I crossed Father Matthew bridge and made the rest of my miserable way home.

16 comments:

SDaedalus said...

I once received a packet of liquorice allsorts without a Bertie. I had consistently bad luck for 6 months.

The raisin Revels are lovely.

Since a bad bout of food poisoning* on Easter Sunday 1989, I am not a fan of orange chocolate.


*I say food poisoning but it may just have been greed.

Wierdo said...

The tactic I take with Revels is never eat the last two (unless the third from last was a coffee) because one of them, if not both, will be horrible

Annie said...

I'll do a deal with you. I'll have the coffee ones if you have the orange ones.

Annie said...

It's like russian roulette with chocolate.

Rosie said...

receiving a packet of liquorice allsorts is bad luck in itself, Daedalus. you have my sympathies.

Wierdo, Annie, i think i shall refrain from their consumption from now on, except in the most dire of circumstances, and even then i'll have a spitoon to hand.

Kitty Cat said...

They really are a last resort type of sweet. Not worth the risk, and those coffee ones are the work of the devil.

Catherine said...

The orange ones are way, way worse than the coffee ones. If only they were sold in component bags, with a master bag of sorts for mixing. Mine would be 25% malteser, 25% toffee and 50% chocolate.

Annie said...

I want to leave a comment saying "It's like russian roulette with chocolate" just to be extra confusing, but I won't.

emordino said...

I love orange chocolate like a fat kid loves cake (or orange chocolate), but I seem to recall the Revels o.c. being sub-par. And anyone who claims to enjoy chocolate raisins is a fool and a knave.

Conan Drumm said...

Right, if you want maltesers - buy maltesers!
Et cetera for several other MarsCorp. sweets you get in the pack... excepting the coffee and orange ones which are the only reason to open a pack of Revels. Or not.
I know a person who has it down to a fine art and can tell the orange/coffee ones apart from the toffee ones by weighing them in the hand. Yep.

Rosie said...

nothing's worse than coffee-flavoured chocolate, Catherine. except maybe for strawberry fondant. or banana fondant. or raisins with yoghurt on them.

Silas Meek said...

I've always been baffled by Revels. Who are they meant to be aimed at? I don't know anyone who likes all the varieties; even freaks who like the coffee and orange ones dislike some of the more sensible offerings like raisin. Is the entire target market of Revels masochists?

Rosie said...

judging by the packaging, yes.

Rosemary said...

I love the orange ones, and was about to leave a comment saying JUST that, but then read Silas's comment about the raisins, which I hate. Oh dear, am I mad? I love Revels, incidentally. A surprise, even if it's a bad one.

Au Lapin Blanc said...

Coffee and chocolate should remain separate at all times. Fact.

They should bring back Vice Versas and rid the world of the dangers of Revels

Rosie said...

i think bad surprises are called something else, Rosemary.

coffee should be put sitting in a corner on its own to think about what it's done, Rabbit. and it should maybe wear a pointy hat.