How to Eat a Chocolate Digestive and Other Biscuits

Ok, hold the fuck up, we need to talk about biscuits. The world’s troubles are paused for as long this takes you to read.

How do you eat a chocolate digestive? Because apparently people do this in a way different than I do, and knowing people live their lives in a way slightly different than I do is more than I can really handle right now.

Firstly, it is alleged that people don’t receive the biscuit chocolate-side down–why? Why wouldn’t you apply the maximum area of chocolate to the maximum area of taste-buds? Is wheat the Big New Thing among the youths? How brief this life is, that I am no longer young, and am not up-to-date on the cereal crops with “vibes”.

A friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous (because they’re wrong), informed me that the idea is that chocolate is more apt to be stuck around the roof of the mouth, if the biscuit is apprehended chocolate-side up. Again, why? I want to eat other things after the digestive, probably, and having the remains of said biscuit clinging to life before its ultimate, hydrochloric acid-induced end does not show sufficient regard for the vitality of death-in-life. All pleasures, even the chocolate digestive, must end for them to be so, and to be sweetly-remembered on ending.

Secondly, dunking. This is going to be the controversial one. I declare, in full solemnity, in print and for all time’s sake, that it is improper to dunk chocolate biscuits. Or, indeed, any biscuit at all, even if they are nominally designed to be dunked. I just fail to understand why you want to take a solid food and dissolve it into mush. The same complaint, incidentally, applies to mashed potato.

I just fail to understand why you want to take a solid food and dissolve it into mush.

I realise I’m on less solid ground for this contention, but hear me out: as with there being a variety of flavours in the world, there are a variety of textures. Therefore, as surely as we would not want all our food to be homogenised to the same taste, by such an outside agent as ketchup, we would not wish it to be homogenised to the same texture, by an intercessor such as tea.

Thirdly, and finally, the correct quantity of digestives eaten. Now, a digestive is effectively a disc of sugar, and eating like a bunch of them at once is possibly bad for you. Nevertheless, it follows from our previous two proofs that it is good, right and sober for multiple digestives to be consumed simultaneously. The image of the digestive daintily posed on a saucer is too awful for safe holding by the human eye–such utter restraint! Such little regard for flavour, for excess! The digestive is subjugated to becoming a soggy mess, so as to lengthen the cup of tea, so as to lengthen the passage of time until time can pass no more for us. The digestive, lonely, dunked, imbibed chocolate-side up, so that a gooey admixture adhesives itself to mine or any mouth, is too much for me to bear.

When will we see that nothing is, but death, decadence and an authentic confrontation with chocolate biscuits?

I don’t know. I am but one voice, shouting into the void.