In a break from my usual review style, I’m not actually going to be eating Quality Street, because Nestle can get to fuck. I will instead be recounting, from memory and Google images, the wrapped variety sweets of choice from the 80s. Back when Mackintosh did them.
Christmas was defined by chocolate in a lot of ways. Painfully rare for the rest of the year, Christmas was the time to splurge on the likes of these brightly foiled little beggars. Almost like decorations in and of themselves. Alongside the ubiquitous ‘Tin of Biscuits’ (more on that here), Quality Street was the major player in long term cylindrical, metal storage containers.
Emblazoned with beautiful artwork – a gentleman solider and his lady friend, dressed in military garb and a fetching bonnet respectively. The image still conjures stories for me to this day. Who were they? Was he back from a war? Had he brought her this very box of chocolates? Had they just finished shagging? In fact, were it not for the Victorian clothing they might very well be shagging in some of these shots. Though they might have had some of those weird access hatches…
Anyway, compare that the bland purple tripe of today, that someone knocked up in five minutes using Photoshop. We got hand drawn original artwork on our sweet tins back then! Had to really, as there were only four channels and they mostly stopped broadcasting around 8:30 in the evening. So it had to be good to stare at.
Also, some of the sweets had either the bloke or the woman printed on them. His and hers, ladies or gents. To a boy in the 80s it felt odd eating the “girls’ sweets”. Such was the conditioning of the school yard, but I wasn’t at school and she had the strawberry cream so… fuck that.
As always, dregs first…
(Editor’s note: We’re using pictures of the modern sweets, or artist’s impressions, because I don’t have a time machine and anyway I’m not your mother. Use your imagination.)
Toffee Penny (gold wrapper, bloke)
I hated these bastards with a passion; no one actually wanted them and they took forever to go. The remains of any tin became a sea of golden disappointment. I’d sooner open it and find the cheque books, birth certificates and spare wires to be fair. Continue reading “World of Crap reviews Quality Street”