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“What we got today then?’ barked an excitable Mark.

As I unpacked the treats he bounced around all over the seats trying to get wind of the impending delights, his little tail wagging away under his jeans no doubt. When the first biscuit came out he put his paws over his eyes and let out a deflated whine. It was the Garibaldi. Yelp! No treat for him. He instantly christened it the ‘Nan’s biscuit’ and even ate it as if rationed. With some sugar inside him he’d morphed back into his usual insightful self and surmised that you’d be hard pushed to tell whether it was stale or not.

So an easy victory beckoned for Custard Cream. A biscuit that walks tall amongst its sugary peers. A biscuit that leaves sweet residue for a gulp or so more than seems biscuitly possible. It is immense. It was victorious.

Next to do battle were Malted Milk and Ginger Nut. One slight whiff of MM’s unique aroma regressed me to my parents Formica clad kitchen circa 1977. Once dunked it must be instantly removed as its meagre frame makes it prone to droppage. It tasted good but quickly dissolved on the palate leaving you feeling slightly short-changed. I’ve always been unfazed by the Ginger Nut (Mrs G’s tip for the title) so wasn’t sure how I’d take to it under competition conditions. I’d kept them safely covered in cling film until the last possible moment in line with Mark’s edict:

“Ginger nut needs wrapping up. It”s a contaminator”.

But once unwrapped and dunked it tasted light, refreshing even. A non-biscuity biscuit if you will. It was hard to concede but GN had beaten MM quite convincingly. Emotions ran high in my rose tinted cake hole and in the end biscuit justice had been done. So, as the train pushed on to Ashford, one by one. we quickly polished off the ‘score-draw’ biscuits that waited patiently on the bench. Until, that is, we reached the Garibaldi, which I generously offered to Mark:

“No you’re alright”.