Biscuits are Britain’s greatest gift to the world (don’t listen to those who say otherwise). They have certain magical qualities. Childhood squabbles are silenced with the bribe of a bourbon, in-laws won over with an assorted tin of border shortbread (the luxury variety, of course), fagging offce meetings brought to life by a plateful of garibaldis… No doubt David Cameron diligently dunked a digestive while mulling over his election campaign speech.
But these sweet morsels of appeasement can also be fashpoints of contention. Offer a ginger nut devotee a malted milk at your peril. Lift the lid to fnd your other half has eaten the last custard cream and you have legitimate grounds for divorce. The spartan rich tea is either loved or loathed, the effete pink wafer misunderstood and the ‘cookie’ dismissed as an American imposter. Then there’s the jaffa cake issue: is it a biscuit or is it a cake?
Find your favourite, though, and you’ve a friend for life, whether you like yours crisp or crumbly, plain or chocolate-coated, sandwiched with stick-your-teeth-together jam or lick-it-up cream.