The Scene: the sitting room at Divorce Towers
The Cast: Dulwich Divorcee, Child One, Child Two and a special guest star appearance by True Love.
The lights go up as the four participants are clustered around a single piece of paper. ‘Don’t rip it!’ ‘It’s mine!’ ‘Get off,’ and ‘Could you all just go away, this is my taste test,’ ring out into the still Dulwich night.
On the floor, being trampled, are eight bars of Green & Black’s chocolate. The cat pops in and starts trying to sneak off with the white chocolate bar while everyone’s arguing …..
Unseen, next door, the neighbour’s finger hovers over the final digit of the 999 call ……
‘Right, thank goodness that’s sorted out. I’m in charge and we’re going to do it like it says on the piece of paper. First, we are going to observe the chocolate.’ High pitched teenage giggles break out.
‘Anyone not observing the chocolate can leave. ‘ The giggles are hastily surpressed and the neighbour reluctantly replaces the receiver next door and stomps off to bed, reminding himself to put his earplugs in. They’re evidently making a night of it next door. Again.
‘Now we are going to smell the chocolate.’ Giggles are now reaching a near-hysterical pitch.
‘Next we will take One Small Square Each, put it in our mouths, and hold our noses.’ The giggles become curiously porcine honks at this point.
‘This is allowing us to experience the taste in the mouth, as opposed to the flavour, which is perceived by the olfactory gland in the nasal canal.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, we knew that,’ say the children as best they can with their noses pinched.
‘Now let go of your nose and breathe deeply, sensing the aromas ….’
Oh dear. That’s torn it ….
Once the demon cocoa flavours have been released, there is no stopping three-quarters of the tasting team. Picture werewolves as the moon comes up. Imagine, if you will, a vampire in close proximity to a trembling, naked white neck. See, in your mind’s eye, a juicy steak moments before a lion sinks its teeth into it. A feeding frenzy begins.
As the light fades, the divorcee tiptoes away, to take refuge somewhere a little more civilised. All that unrestrained chomping is simply giving her a headache.
‘Oi! Hang on a minute, who’s taken the Butterscotch? And where did the Milk Chocolate and Almond go? She’s only left us with the dark and the cooking chocolate. Typical!’
The divorcee reclines on her chaise longue, smiling slightly, and sends a silent prayer of thanks to the lovely Tara.
The curtain falls.