The top scientists at TC Fudge have categorically proven beyond any evidence that combining the two base elements of tea and fudge in order to mug off your own nan is the funniest thing possible.

How do I mug off Granny?

Picture this. You’re reunited with your dearest old dear after a long period apart. You offer Granny a nice cup of tea. You bring through the aforementioned cup of tea. Granny tries to drink the cup of tea only to find out it’s actually filled with fudge. Everyone laughs. Granny gets a tea spoon and fudges her own face. Everyone wins. Stories are told and legends are made.

How can I make this happen immediately?

Like any great adventure, it all starts by giving me £25. If you pay me £25 I will get a bus to a local charity shop, hand select a cup and saucer, fill it with fudge, package it and post it to you. Then you have to wait until it’s safe to see Granny, then mug her off something ridunculous.

How do you maintain such a culture of innovation at TC Fudge?

In short, animal testing. If you want to be taken seriously as a science guy you have to experiment on animals. We test all our comedy fudge products on elderly chimpanzee’s, they love it. It’s the only gig the PG Tips chimps can get since animal cruelty laws wiped out their livelihood.

Errr, are you being serious about the mug thing?

Yes. If you give me £25 I will send you a cup filled with fudge that looks like tea.

In a sticky situation? All your fudgy problems solved with sage advice and guidance.

“Dear Mother Fudge, I have been having problems at work. Someone else just got the job I was running for, I just wanted to make everything great again, but everything’s just stupid apart from golf and CHINA! What shall I do?”

– Ronald Blunt, USA

Dear Ronald, Thank you for your courage in reaching out. Work can be a real clown competition sometimes, I am sure that most people can related to you. I certainly can. I work with this guy who is a total fudging nightmare. His name is Luna and he like-ee-da-tuna, if you know what I mean. He’s a cat, that’s what I meant.

Every day, he’s all up in my grill about quality control and production volumes. He’s all like ‘stop eating massive bits of fudge like a Snickers bar, it’s for the customers!’ Always on my ass. He can’t talk, his expense account reads like Captain Birdseye’s shipping inventory.

Making things great again is a difficult one. It’s not been great since those bloody Romans started with their roads and aqueducts. Sometimes the best thing to do is not make make things great at all. You might find that going and sitting quietly in a room somewhere away from people and cameras feels a lot better. You could get some Scalextric, grab a juice box.

Most importantly, you should – without hesitation – take a running fudge right in your own face. Fudge makes everything better. Fudge is the Preparation H of life. Have you seen Mary Poppins? Spoonful of sugar. Well imagine Dwayne the Rock Johnson is cast as Mary Poppins and the spoon is a Unicorn. That’s what we’re packing.

“Fudge is the Preparation H of life.”

Me – just then

Remember Ronald, it can always be worse. It’s not like 200 million people in your own country think you are a donkey brains. Then on top of that another 6 billion people worldwide consider you to be an embodiment of everything that is terrible about humanity. It’s not like that. That would be horrible. Not even fudge could help with that.

Ha! Just kidding, yes it could! Got your nose, where’s your nose gone? It’s still on your face. Classic. Now you run off and get some fudge in you, you little scamp. Have a game of golf and relax. Easy with the China thing though, you don’t want to end up like this guy…

Bozza! Me old royster doyster. I was cooking up my most recent batch of delicious homemade fudge and it occurred to me, you are desperately in need of a fudge in the face.

I feel for you Bozza. You’ve got a flipping tough job and you’re getting a hard time. I read something recently that said you were probably an albino honey monster that has been strategically shaved. Harsh. It’s not even constructive criticism. What does someone do with that information. “Ok, I’ll work on that then. I’ll go and be less of a honey monster.” Tough love right there.

Personally, I think you’re alright. Any jobbing political figure who is bold enough to slam a ten year old Japanese kid in the chops in full view of the world media is in for the win in my book. I strongly feel you deserve a break, there is no better way than my sweet and creamy fudge.

Obviously you have to pay for it, I’m not into any kind of dodgy shenanigans, eh?… Unless you’re up for a bit of a tickle. Let’s work out a signal, perhaps if I go back in time to study at Eton and then Oxford, that could be our signal?

But seriously, I want to start up a fudge lobby. The ‘guy in a kitchen’ fudge industry is concerningly underrepresented within the corridors of Whitehall. I want to grease palms, give out hand shandies, or funny hand shakes, whatever the expression is. I’ll catch up on the lingo.

So, I’ll wait to hear back. I know you’re busy being Prime Monster… s**t, sorry. It was because we were talking about the honey monster thing early. I know you’re busy being Prime Minister, but you deserve some sweet relief. I’ll leave it there, but also…

BUY MY FUDGE YOU MOTHER!

Close your eyes. Picture the last time you ate some fudge. What was the experience like? Did you tear through layers of plastic and laminated carboard, discard the glossy insert, unwrap the plastic wrapping of the fudge bar, take a bite? Then slowly slip into a sugar coma, rewatching Always Sunny in Philadelphia? The Night Man, anyone?

If that is you, then you are my peoples. I am right there with you. Love eating fudge and kicking back, but there was always something a little off. Most of the fudge, even the luxury “craft fudge” with all the rustic trappings, left a plastic aftertaste. It was as if there was a chemical film between the things that make fudge amazing: the creamy smoothness of the dairy and the gentle sweetness.

Well, it turns out there is a chemical film. Here are my ingredients: Caster sugar, Golden Syrup, Butter, Cream, Sea Salt, Vanilla Essence. I spent about five minutes randomly picking two fudge producers, Thorntons (left) and Potters (right):

I don’t mind Thorntons fudge, my point is not that any of these ingredients are particularly harmful – it’s just why the fudge is palm oil your fifth ingredient? Why would you need water in there? Or a raising agent. Yummy, can I have some some more Red Iron Oxide? Nothing tastes like Christmas more than a bit of Potassium Aluminium Silicate. (Last were ingredients from Fudge Kitchen)

The further I looked into it, the more it fudged me off. The ingredients read like a chemical formula. All the caramel sparkles and the banoffee pie flavours are there to mask the pungent tang of mass production, it’s produced by people in lab coats rather than aprons. Next time you eat some, once you get past the sweetness, you can taste the chemicals.

That’s when I started making my own. That’s it really. I don’t want a medal or a parade. Just thought I’d share that. But I can haz medal, right? And now, the Night Man…