There’s war in Ukraine, there’s war in Gaza, the world’s in turmoil, Manchester United can’t win, Owen Farrell can’t wear an England shirt now he’s gone to the ‘dark side’ (France) to play his rugby and we’ve nearly finished ‘Fool Me Once’ on Netflix and don’t know what to watch next!!!!

These are big problems, right? Crises. Disasters. But there are other problems. Not so ‘grand’, not so ‘global’, but once you’ve compartmentalised the big shit as ‘stuff out there’ it doesn’t mitigate the broken dishwasher, nor the parking space you can’t find, the rattle coming from the loft, Waitrose are out of eggs. These are minor problems compared to the big stuff, but they are still problems, and we’re still allowed to get upset about them, moan about them, want to punch someone about them.

Hence my own ‘first world problem in a third world country’. With, of all people, Cadburys. My (former) favourite company in the entire world. Now part of Kraft, the US giant and its umbrella, Mondelez. Or, ‘the bastards’, as they are known. In my house.

I went into a supermarket in India and saw there a bar of Cadburys chocolate. Some people see red, I see purple. And I did, so I bought it. For £3.50. About a month’s wages for a Kerelan crop picker probably, but I am a fat-cat western materialist, so I splashed out. For the joy, the comfort, the sheer pleasure that Cadburys gives me. Usually.

We opened the bar, with some ceremony (because I’m stupid), made a cup of tea, put the chocolate in my mouth and… nothing happened. It sat there. Solid lump. I waited. Swilled some hot tea round it. It remained. Like a plastic Lego brick in my mouth. Doing nothing. Basically, it didn’t melt. At all. I waited (10 minutes) for my mouth to be bathed in creamy melted chocolate, but it didn’t happen. I bit it. And again. And ended up with a mouthful of little, hard bits of unmelting stuff in my mouth. I waited half an hour (I’m dedicated) before spitting it out.

I was crushed. Devastated. I’d never before eaten a bar of Cadburys chocolate that didn’t work. So I wrote to them. Sent them pics of the packet, receipt, all the stuff they asked for. And I waited. In my mind (never a good place, nor one even close to reality) a box was going to arrive. About 6 foot by 9. Filled with all my favourites.

Instead I received an email from some dozy robot at Mondelez spewing generic rubbish about quality control, blah, blah, blah, and please find attached ‘gift’. Holy shit!!!! Here it is. “Please go to your nearest chocolate shop with a wheelbarrow and fill it with purple!!!’ In my (fucking) dreams.

What the ‘gift’ was, when opened, was…

2 pounds. By PayPal or BACS. 2 quid. Less than the price paid for the bar I threw away. And there are people in the world, I realise, for whom 2 quid is a veritable fortune. I’m not one of them. I’m a spoilt, indulgent, horrible Western person for whom 2 quid won’t pay for my morning coffee. Or even touch my ongoing chocolate addiction (this pic was just a few bits I found rummaging round at home; I took it to send the CEO of Cadburys. My desk at work is way more incriminating).

Let’s just say I told Ms Mondelez precsicely what to do with her 2 quid, how Cadburys should never have left its Quaker values, how God himself thinks she’s an insulting ratbag, and I’ve taken the matter higher.

I WILL NOT REST UNTIL JUSTICE IS DONE!!!!

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx