Bruno writes to Chewits in his quest for their mythical Ice Cream flavour.

If there is one frightening fact I have learned about Bruno since working with him, it is his frightening love for Chewits. I would be lying if I said he did not even own a Chewits BAG. Some people might say a man in his twenties is too old for the chewy sweets, and they would be right, but not about our Bruno.

Bruno is adamant an Ice Cream flavour of Chewits exist, but no-one else can remember them, which has sent him into a blind rage (and I do not think I am exaggerating [I am]). His last ditch attempt to be proven right has been to write to Chewits.

Read his letter (click to enlarge):

Dear Sir / Madam,

I am writing today to ask for your assistance in ending a feud that has destroyed the working environment within my office. Indeed, the tension is such that I feel I may need to seek new employment if this argument can not be put to rest.

My desk is located immediately adjacent to a quiet, but imposing young man named Christopher. Christopher largely keeps to himself and gets his work completed on time. We often jest about the weekend’s football results as he is delighting in Manchester United’s current plight. I would like it noted that we have never found these exchanges to be heated in any way, and all good natured in intent.

On 10 February 2014, during a confectionery themed discussion, I asserted that Ice Cream flavour Chewits may well be the greatest sweets I have even had the pleasure of indulging in. I went into further detail discussing the texture of the sweet in question, the smell of such a treat and ultimately the incomparable taste that is derived from a solitary Ice Cream Chewit.

During my assertions about the greatest confectionery item known to man, a silence befell Christopher. I could sense that confusion was growing inside of him and that with each of my assertions, Christopher was failing further and further in to a void of misunderstanding. “Do you mean the green sour ones?” Christopher asked, looking utterly perplexed. I responded in the negative and reasserted that I was indeed describing pure white, Ice Cream variety Chewits.

Christopher grew silent. A rage befell him. A rage I did not know he possessed. Christopher slammed his fist down on the desk with all the fury of his ancestors and proclaimed that if I was to make such bold claims I needed to offer proof that such a sweet exists.

Fortunately, our place of work is forged in the heart of Swindon town centre, and as such I was able to venture to a number of stores and vendors during my lunch hour to seek out the mythical sweet. Alas. My efforts were in vain. For I can not find one solitary packet of your sugary delights to offer as proof of my claims.

I must now face Christopher with each new day, and resign myself to the fact that I can not provide proof which my honour can be regained. So I defer to you, good people, to provide me with some proof that such a delight exists and that I am an honourable fellow.

Indeed, I am beginning to doubt their very existence myself – and if such a sweet does not exist, I desperately need to speak with your Research and Development department, as I believe I have an excellent idea for a flavour.

With great eagerness, I await your response,


Have you ever eaten one of these mythical Ice Cream flavour Chewits?

Let us know your favourite flavour in the comments!

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