A Heartwarmingly Tragic Tail Of Family Life Set To The Backdrop Of A Fluffy And Light Desert

5 May

Yesterday afternoon I was lying on my bed, bored. Just staring at the ceiling and thinking about Angel Delight. And then to ease the boredom I did what I think any one of us would do in the same situation – I wrote a letter to Angel Delight headquarters, in which I pretended to be a 38-year old woman from Dudley in the West Midlands. I got up early this morning and posted the letter. I don’t know why. I will share the contents of the letter with you.

First, though, let me say something. I am aware that some of you (you know who you are) aren’t satisfied with merely words when you come here. Some of you want your literature sweetened with images, much like putting a bit of roast potato on the fork with the brocolli to help it go down. That’s okay, I can relate. I also know there are two types of people that wish for pictures with their text. The highbrow arty lot, educated, the ‘thinkers’, they like something tasteful, subtle and thought-provoking. For them what I’ve done is taken individual photos of all of the pages of the letter, and then I’ve mounted them onto a purple background using Paint, to create a classy looking Angel Delight letter montage.

You’ll get to that in a moment. There are also the other lot, the lowbrow mob, uneducated, the simple to please. And I tell you something, we are an alright group once you get to know us. Anyway for them (us) what I’ve done, again using Paint, is create a collage that appears to depict a smug-looking man ejaculating to the vision of a packet of raspberry flavoured Angel Delight. Extra comedy weight is added by the placing of the words ‘Whip up with fresh milk’ at the top of the packet, with a picture of a winking star next to the words. It’s as if the star is egging the masturbating man on. Saying ‘Oooh yea, go on then, whip up some fresh milk, ooooh!’ but in Ray Winstone’s voice. If you are a bit more juvenile you might just imagine the star is the winking bumhole of someone you know. Or of someone you would like to know. It’s up to you. I knew a girl once, years back, whose bumhole spoke in Ray Winstone’s voice. I did not. I made that up. But now for the twist. Don’t be fooled by the intense expression on the ejaculating man’s face. The scene is not actually as intense as it first appears. The man is not holding his penis. It is in fact a novelty water pistol designed to look like a penis, with the intention of making certain people (women on a hen do, schoolchildren, me) roll about on the floor giggling. The stuff exploding out of the novelty penis water pistol isn’t spunk. It’s milk. The guy has just found a new way to inject a bit of fun into the desert making procedure, leave him alone, alright! My point is to show how quick we are to jump to negative conclusions. Not really. I don’t have a point. I just liked the picture I created and wanted to include it in this post. Before I made up that last bit about it not being semen but rather milk, I was going to go with my original idea that it technically was sperm, but that the man in the picture was the world’s only known carrier of a strange gene that means instead of producing jizz when aroused, his cock shot out fresh and creamy dollops of Angel Delight. But I reasoned that this might be bordering on tasteless, so I didn’t go with it. Opting instead for the milk and the novelty penis water pistol.

Anyway, here is the letter. I wouldn’t bother trying to read my handwriting, I’ve written it all down for you underneath. You’re welcome.

angel delight

Dear beautiful people at Angel Delight HQ,

I hope this letter finds you all well!

I can’t remember the last time I wrote a letter, I think it was way back when my first daughter was born, and that was sixteen years ago, so I apologise if this letter isn’t very polished. No, wait, that wasn’t the last letter I wrote, I did write to Nelson Mandela to congratulate him on a successful hosting of the rugby world cup when they had it in his country. It was nice seeing him smiling on the telly, holding that trophy with that cap on his head. I mean, after everything he’d been through in his life, that was a good day and so I wrote him a letter while my husband watched a Schwarzenegger film. Now that I come to think of it, that was a few years before my first daughter was born. Anyway, sorry to go off on one, boring you, my point was simply that I don’t usually write letters. Unless doing crosswords counts. It probably doesn’t. I don’t know why I said that. I’m getting all flustered. Not really. I am okay.

Anyway, the point of this letter. Basically I just wanted to thank you for securing my place in the sun. My moment of glory. My first ever taste of success in an otherwise unfulfilling and mediocre existence over the past 38 years. It was joyous! It happened last night. I am actually still high on emotion, even this afternoon, although I could just be high on goodness from the whole packet of butterscotch Angel Delight I just ate by myself. So happy right now!

I live in an area of the Spanish countryside where really nothing goes on. We’re secluded. Apart from one week every six months when life becomes interesting. In the houses dotted around here live ex-pats from all different countries. Like me. I’m a Dudley girl. I mean that I am from Dudley; not that I am a groupie of Dudley Moore. Anyway, yea, there’s a German couple, a Dutch family, a French family with a really cocky dog, me, and some South Americans sharing a house. Could be Peruvian. Or from Ecuador. Or both. There’s a few living in there. And there’s also some Spanish around here.

Well, what we do every six months is all get together and compete against each other in what we call the Come Dine With Me World Cup. Each night for a week we all go round one of each other’s houses for a dinner party that should represent the host’s country’s cuisine and traditions. At the end of each night we secretly score our hosts, giving our verdicts to the gardener, Miguel, who films it all on his camera and at the end we all wait for him to edit together the videos he made of us through the week, he says he can do that on his computer, and then we all sit down together and watch it with some wine, and we have a laugh, and also find out who has won the CDWM World Cup, and then the previous winner has to hand over the cup to the new champion who gets to display it proudly in their living room for six months. I made the cup myself for the first ever CDWMWC, two years ago. I just had to make some adjustments to one of my son’s gymnastics trophies. Anyway, last night was the week’s finale, everyone was at my house, and to cut a long story short – I won! Me! My English food, ingrained in me since I was a little girl in Dudley, won me the respect of my peers. I beat Claudia the German lady by one point. And that one point, everyone agreed, was thanks solely to the pudding I made. Butterscotch flavoured Angel Delight! Everyone was bowled over by the majesty of it! Personally, I really liked Claudia’s pudding. It was a strudel, but instead of using sultanas she used little dollops of peanut butter. And it had honey drizzled on top. It was entirely homemade. But the people voted and it was found that she couldn’t compete with the English tradition and power of good old Angel Delight!

I’m now looking at the trophy. It’s back where it belongs!

Everyone last night couldn’t stop talking about Angel Delight. Every single person kept asking me what it was called, I had to keep repeating it to everyone and writing it down for people. It was funny when my son’s Japanese friend tried saying it, he kept saying ‘Angel deright,’ it was hilarious. My husband used to do the best impression of a Chinese man trying to say ‘egg fried rice,’ and he would say ‘egg flied lice,’ it used to crack everyone up. He was known for that joke. Everyone always asked him to do it, whenever they saw him. When my son told it at his father’s funeral two years ago, it stopped everyone from crying.
He loved Angel Delight as much as me. Everyone in my family does. Some families have religion to hold them together, some have football, mine had and still has Angel Delight, even if Barry, my husband, is sadly passed on.

When we had my husband’s funeral and everyone came over from England, I asked every single person to bring with them just one packet of Angel Delight, but that it was to be the flavour that they felt most represented Barry’s personality. Out of 27 people, 22 brought banana. I don’t know what to read into that. Maybe nothing. Personally I would have brought Special Brew flavour; he would have appreciated it more! I’m only joking. I know you don’t make a Special Brew flavour. That would be disgusting. Even the idea makes me need to vomit.

My four kids have been raised on Angel Delight. Well, actually only three of them have. Two daughters and one son. The other son is lactose intolerant. So no Angel Delight for him! Haha! No, it’s not funny, I shouldn’t joke. Well, it is kind of funny! We’re all eating Angel Delight while all he gets is some chopped fruit! He doesn’t mind, and says that even if he could, he wouldn’t eat it because it reminds him of his dad and makes him feel sad. The memory’s just too raw. I suppose if he wanted some Angel Delight that bad, he could always snort it. Actually, knowing my son he’d more likely smoke it. He listens to Bob Marley, if you know what I mean. I don’t mind though, I mean, I realise it could be a lot worse. He’s got friends, let me tell you, who if they needed Angel Delight but happened to be lactose intolerant, they’d inject it. Know what I mean? The thing is, though, those kids listen to Bob Marley too.

I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I will finish this letter. In my cupboard I have seven packets of Angel Delight. I am now going to go and distribute them around the neighbours as a thank you for last night. Keeping one for myself, of course.

Have a lovely day,
Warm regards,

Mrs. Krissie Mole
angel delight ad idea

Wonder if I’ll hear anything back….

By the way, you can now ‘like’ Tesco Value Beans on Facebook. Alright, ego!  Doesn’t mean anything other than a place to get new post links. The link’s on the right hand side of the page. I am comfortable being a Billy No Mates in there, though, if no one likes me.

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