Viennetta

Ladies and gentlemen I’m back from my brief dance with the goddess known as sleep and let me tell you she looked very favourably upon me this morning. As such I probably shouldn’t refer to it as brief, more like drawn out yet satisfying, like trying to eat a whole viennetta by yourself. At first it’ll seem like maybe you should stop but by the end of that sweet ice cream train you know that the whole journey’s been worth it. With viennetta you’re in it for the long haul whether you like it or not, and especially if you’re not, because at first it looks like maybe it won’t be so bad, it’s kind of small. When you looked at it on the box it looked a lot bigger, now it’s outside of the box it looks like you might be able to take it. It’s challenging you.

And no man should ever back down from a challenge set by an ice-cream, especially not one that’s so awkwardly sculptured, one that looks like it might be what, half a tub? But one that looks so feeble by comparison to the iconic ice cream monster they flashed you, that they teased you with on the box.

It’s not fair is it.

It’s false advertising that’s what it is.

With other ice creams you know where you stand.

Ben and Jerry’s is expensive but delicious, you probably should eat it over a few nights but they put so many ridiculously tasty things in there that it’s almost impossible.

Regular tubs of vanilla ice cream are too much to have at once, that you can tell by volume alone, so you take just enough so that it overflows from your bowl in ridiculous amounts.

You know where you stand with these.

But an ice cream you have to slice?

Who’s to know?

It’s madness.

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