‘New Cadbury’s biscuit Boost’ – who could forget that shrill little jingle? It sticks in the mind not simply because of its non-tune, but also as being just about the last time a genuinely new chocolate bar was launched. Those crazy pioneer days are long gone. The fat (I’m assuming) controllers of the chocolate conglomerates don’t gamble on new brands now, but prefer instead to stretch existing brands into new and ever more mutated shapes. This is a sad thing for me, partly because we’ve lost the variety, but more importantly we’ve lost the strange little fictional backdrops unique to each chocolate bar that somehow imbued eating them with some exotic edge. To eat a ‘Country Style’ was to cross the wide open prairies on a covered wagon, to sample a ‘Mint Cracknel’ was a more authentic encounter with the piste than any mere skiing holiday.
Now we just have endless remixes of the Dairy Milk brand with its thrilling connotations of a glass and a half of milk. Not only have the small, gaily adorned foot soldiers of confectionery been erased, but for the big names, the relationship between name and product has been ruptured for ever. Who could begin to say what a Kit Kat is these days? Once it was a 2/4 finger choco-wafer treat, now, engorged and distorted as a Bernard Matthews Franken-turkey, it looks around baffled and a little ashamed with no idea of its place in the world.
I was wondering if there were any analogies with other risk averse industries like the music business. I guess the most naked attempt to create an ever-mutating brand was when S Club 7 spawned S Club Juniors, though sadly this didn’t seem to go any further. We never did get to see S Club New Wave– though of course that franchise does exist under various other names. I suppose the situation in the music industry rather than being the same as the confectionery business is actually the opposite. The chocolate industry innovates content all the time, but hides it behind the same names and packaging. The music business churns out the same bilge endlessly, but gives it new names. A glass and a half of Richard Ashcroft; a glass and a half of James Blunt; a glass and a half of Simon Webbe….
I blame Nestlé. Kit-Kats have never been the same since Granny Rowntree (it was just the one old lady, wasn’t it?) used to make them in her kitchenette.
There can be no doubt that you will have wondered the eternal question, “Which is the true Kit Kat bar? Two or Four?”Well, I have found the answer, and I feel it is satisfying to both sets of Kit Kat lovers (although, obviously, one set more than the other) because it’s so close a result.The traditional four finger version of this chocolate bar was originally launched in September 1935 in the UK as Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp (price: 2d). The two finger version was launched May 15, 1936. (< HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kit_Kat" REL="nofollow">Source<>). So, a mere <>eight months<>, seventy years ago, cause all these problems.Now, on to the next problem: where have you gone, Fuse?
You could size people up by the choices they made in the sweet shop. It was like the difference between Blue Peter and Magpie, or Bunty and Mandy. Which way would they go? Would it be the tang of Swizzles or the whimper of effete Parma Violets? Kit Kat versus Bar Six. Fruit Salads versus Black Jacks. Walkers or Golden Wonder? Corona or Fanta? And beware of anyone who chose < HREF="www.aquarterof.co.uk/cherry-lips-p-165.html" REL="nofollow">Cherry Lips<>
You have overlooked the great < HREF="http://www.tunnock.co.uk/index1.htm" REL="nofollow">Tunnocks<> I’m afraid – they’re still making the same cakes 1000 years later.And as for sweets, good old Swizzels Matlows are still making Parma Violets.Both companies still use the same packaging and create the same wonderful products.Try a different shop.
I used to eat bubble gum. I forget what they were called. They were individually wrapped, like sweets, in a pink and blue and yellow design.I stopped eating them when I was told it was sitting in my stomach and would expand and throttle my gullet.So I then chewed them. One fateful day (while sitting on the plastic corner seat of a square red paddling pool, I remember) I wrapped it round my head.My mum took me down the sweetshop and had a blare at the owner, a Mrs Tooth, telling her that she should never sell me Bubble gum again.For years afterwards, when approaching the counter to secure a 10p selection, Mrs Tooth would grumpily remind me — you can’t choose any bubble gum. Not after what you did.
Bad Boy Bobby says ‘Sweet Candy hmmmmmmmm’
They were called < HREF="http://www.handycandy.co.uk/anglo-bubbly-p-2.html" REL="nofollow">Anglo Bubbly<>
Your writing is ace, Catherine. Also I like sweets!