I’m not one to be dramatic or to exaggerate, but I would burn in eternal hellfire just for Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice-cream. I would sell my soul to Satan himself and donate my ice-cream laden body to his cause too as a cute freebie, just to eat that delicious dessert. Because really, is there any other ice-cream on this planet quite as intensely delicious as the deeply chocolatey ice-cream filled with gooey vanilla marshmallow, lashings of oozing caramel and those divine-ass lil fish bits? I think not.

In times of need, I have always returned to the sugary caress of Ben and the comforting coolness of Jerry. Fragile periods in my life have been punctuated by tubs of the good stuff. Desolate after a Further Maths GCSE which I was coerced into sitting (in which I genuinely drew an ‘X’ with an arrow next to it to solve a ‘find the value of x’ equation), I was comforted by Phish Food. Traumatised by an A-level French oral exam, I stewed in misery alone in bed with no-one by my side but trusty B&J. Scrolling through my computer, I’m embarrassed to find a video of me screaming Celine Dion’s ‘All By Myself’ à la Bridget Jones and crying, whilst simultaneously spooning fat globs of chocolate ice-cream into my snotty face. And of course, I couldn’t forget the delightful images of my college wife and I guzzling a tub (with pancakes) during a particularly awful week 6, where I appear to have forgotten to shower for at least 10 days. Cute.

“I would sell my soul to Satan himself, and donate my ice-cream laden body to his cause too as a cute freebie, to eat that delicious dessert”

Naturally, Phish Food accompanies me through good times as well as bad. One of my favourite hobbies (lying in bed with my cat) is not complete without the sweet oral embrace of the two main men in my life, Ben and Jerry. I knew it must be love (barf) when my boyfriend left the house in torrential rain specifically to trek to buy me my flavour of choice, whilst I vegetated in a warm bed and watched TV – all for no personal gain whatsoever. I truly find it difficult to envision anything quite as delightful as the squidginess of the marshmallowy core, or anything quite as touching as a loved one urging you to take first dibs on the gooey bits. The world needs more people like them.

Obviously, I’m not against other Ben & Jerry’s flavours. I’m partial to a classic Cookie Dough, love a nice Karamel Sutra and am always tempted by those indulgent topped tubs. But when it comes down to it, I just think there’s no contest – the clear winner every time is Phish Food. If a genie came to me tomorrow, my final wish would be for those fish chocolate pieces to be made into a bag of chocolate that’s sold in supermarkets near me (FYI, wish 1 would be bye-bye Tories and Trump, wish 2 would be hello hot new me).

So yeah, I’d sell my soul for a nice tub of ice-cream. Say my morals are loose or that my judgement is poor, I don’t care. Lucifer, if you’re out there and reading this, hmu