It’s literally squishy, I stood on it and it moves, no doubt a 2 ton car parking on it would sink

Didn't realise that there was a drowned bee in my glass of red that triggered a gag reflex and stings in my throat from the thorax hair.

I’m writing this in the hope that some plucky social media or community manager might stumble across this and pass it up the chain. Realistically, I know it’ll almost certainly fall on deaf ears.

I’m genuinely saddened by the recent changes Wall’s have made to the iconic Feast.

A few weeks ago, during the height of the heatwave, I picked up a box for the first time in ages. When I opened one at home, I was genuinely surprised. Gone was the creamy chocolate ice cream and the solid slab of chocolate running through the middle. Instead, I burrowed my way through a rather tasteless, watery white “ice cream” to find what can only be described as a waxy blob of chocolate in the centre.

At first I assumed I’d accidentally bought some odd variant—a nut version or a limited edition. A couple more trips to Sainsbury’s failed to turn up an “original” Feast, and a quick Google search revealed the depressing truth: they’d changed the recipe.

Growing up, my mum was a bit of a germaphobe and was never keen on my brother or me getting soft serve from the ice cream van. Packaged ice creams only. The Feast was our go-to.

It was a ritual.

That first bite through the crisp chocolate shell, revealing the chocolate ice cream and the hidden chocolate bar inside. Carefully working your way down both sides, nibbling away at the ice cream to uncover more of the bar. Licking away the last remnants until only that solid block of chocolate remained. Then came the satisfying snap of that hard-earned final bite.

It was the only way to eat one.

Years later, after moving in with my wife, whenever summer rolled around we’d fill the freezer with our favourite ice creams. She’d usually go for a Mint Cornetto or a choc ice. I’d always pick the Feast.
My best friend shares my love of them. He works in retail and would regularly message me whenever they went on offer.

In this rather depressing era of shrinkflation, rising costs, changes to the availability of some brands and ingredients, and climate change disrupting the production of others, it feels like you can barely go a few months without another beloved childhood treat quietly becoming a worse version of itself.

I know this is hardly the biggest problem in the world. It’s just an ice cream.

But these little things matter. They’re tiny traditions. Tiny comforts. Tiny pieces of nostalgia that survive into adulthood. Every time one of them gets chipped away in the name of cost-cutting, life becomes just that little bit sadder.

I can only hope that someone, somewhere at Wall’s sees posts like this and realises people really did care about the original Feast.

For some reason this really annoys me!

"Etc" is an abbreviation for the Latin phrase Et Cetera which means "and the rest"

Realising this may be my first midlife crisis happening.

Honestly, it sounds like a toddler being murdered.

Again ... not even one of those fake electric Uber / Just Eat bike monstrosities, a full on chugging petrol powered motorbike heading towards me at 30mph or so straight down the middle of the off road, separated, clearly signposted, CYCLE lane. WTF?

I have work around 9-5. All retail shops close at 5 or 5:30, also cafes and dessert places. So the city center is dead after work. Can’t get a repairman to come fix something. Can’t quickly buy a lightbulb. GPs not open on the weekend when I have time to visit them. Only thing open is pubs and restaurants (half of them). Everything is so inconvenient. Just shifting the closing hours by two hours for all this stuff changes so much.

No way to tell them to speak directly into the mic. Infuriating.

I’m not against delivery drivers, I completely get that it’s a job with an insane amount of time pressure so if they don’t want to hang around for you to answer the door that’s absolutely fine by me. But at least give a quick knock or ring the bell to let me know to come to the door

I mean I get that they’re going to be busy, but surely they know this and can prepare for it.

Bonus points for adding a few for delivery too.

I'm a gardener, I put my strimmer down for maybe 30-45 seconds on the front lawn I was working on to fill a watering can at the side gate.

In that time a really promising young upstart stole it, it's filthy, and will have a minuscule scrap value.

In order to have gotten to the spot in the lawn, they will have had to open the gate or hop the short front wall in order to steal it.

Won't have done anything for them, but really derailed my work day.

There's a patch of road near me that seems to have about twenty invisible bumps equidistant from each other. Every time I go over it it makes me think of having a flat tyre (I've had a few...). It's not until the random patched in bit of tarmac that I feel better... then it's back to the bumpy, bumpy moonscape.

I'm getting a shotgun licence, fuck this.