The saga continues!
HE PHONED THE HELPLINE, PEOPLE. HE ACTUALLY PHONED THE HELPLINE.
I get home from work and my boyfriend drags me into the garage to give me a blow-by-blow account of the phonecall, which he eavesdropped (under my instructions). Apparently, dad opened the call with "Hello, my daughter has just bought me a box of Liquorice Allsorts and they're just not right!"
THAT'S RIGHT, HELPLINE LADY. THEY ARE JUST NOT RIGHT.
We're in absolute hysterics and my boyfriend has just got to "and then he said 'they're all sickly! And SQUISHY!'" when my dad comes in, cradling a new packet of Allsorts like they're his firstborn. "Did you solve the mystery, then?" I ask, pretending I haven't just been killing myself laughing at him behind his back. "Well," he says, clearly perturbed, "not exactly! Apparently they hadn't changed the recipe! I said they must be KNOCK-OFFS or something and I said that you bought them very cheap and she said that it was up to Woolworths what they charged for them. But I said that £1.99 was very suspicious and she agreed! So I said I'd try another packet* and then your brother came home with this packet for me! And it's the same packaging, but these ones are absolutely fine!!!!" (At this point, he is wide-eyed with astonishment). "Look!"
I look down to the countertop, and he has laid out two of each sweet, one from each packet, side-by-side. "Now this one," he says, pointing to a bobbly one, "is from the right packet. Squish it!" I squish. It is sort of squishy. "And this one," he continues, "is from the packet you bought me, and it is MUCH SQUISHIER!" I squish it. It is a little bit more squishy. "And this one is HARD and SHAPED LIKE BERTIE BASSETT which is AS IT SHOULD BE. But the one from your packet IS JUST A TWISTY SHAPE!!!"
Fearing this pattern is going to continue throughout all eight pairs of sweets, I hastily agree that they are clearly ENTIRELY DIFFERENT SWEETS and MY GOD WHAT HAS COME OF THE WORLD, THANK GOD YOU CALLED THE HELPLINE, ELSE WHERE WOULD WE ALL BE RIGHT NOW?** "Exactly!" he cries. "I'm going to send them a letter with my findings."
Oh yes, you read right. He's going to send them a letter. With his findings.
With. His. Findings.
WITH. HIS. GODDAMN. FINDINGS.
I swear on all that is good and holy, I will copy this letter and bring it to you, LJ, so you too can enjoy the insanity that is my father. The scientist. And his FINDINGS.
* My boyfriend says what he actually said was "Well, I shall try another packet, and if they're the same I shall be very disappointed!"
** I didn't word it quite so sarcastically, of course. I don't want to send the guy over the edge. After all, he was at the time cutting the vegetables for dinner with a VERY LARGE and VERY SHARP knife. I'm no fool. If there's one thing I have learnt from this whole debacle it is that ALLSORTS = SRS BZNS.