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    Nobody Asked, But I Ranked British Foods According To How Upset They Make Me

    If you're an ardent British biscuit fan, you might want to skip this.

    Hi! I'm Amy, and I moved to the UK a couple of years ago. One of the first big differences I noticed was the food – I can't stop rambling to anyone who'll listen about how I feel about it (sorry, flatmates). Here's how I'd rank some of the stuff I've tried so far!

    14. Deep-fried Mars bar

    Danny Lawson / Via Getty

    Every time this (divine, touched by the hand of Christ) food comes up, people act outraged – and do you know what, the word act is very important there. It's incredible. Of course it is? It's gooey chocolate in a crispy batter, and anyone who pretends that that sounds 'revolting' or 'too much' clearly doesn't understand the fundamental point of living. All its haters are the kind of people who give kids peanuts on Halloween for the sake of their teeth, so even if it wasn't delicious, the deep-fried Mars bar would still never annoy me (my enemy's enemy is my friend).

    Rage-ometer score: –350. It restores my faith in humanity.

    13. Chip butties

    Jayne Williamson / Getty Images

    You can pretty much take for granted that bread filled with another, slightly differently-textured starch is never going to make me sad. A chip butty is the perfect mix of fluffy and crispy, meaning it'll give you what might just be the most satisfying bite of your life (bonus points for the fact that it's basically a one-stop sobriety shop after a night out).

    Taste-to-name ratio: 5:1 in favour of the flavour.

    12. Toad in the hole

    Istetiana / Getty Images

    I think it's time for me to be brave and say it: I don't think stodginess is inherently a bad thing, and toad in the hole does it brilliantly. Filling, delightfully carb-y, feels like a Sunday nap. Incredible stuff.

    Number of toads actually harmed in the making of this dish: zero (that I know of, anyway). 

    11. Beans on toast

    Lleerogers / Getty Images

    Look, I'm the first to jump in on some British food slander, but beans on toast genuinely makes several valid culinary points. Sure, the beans are generally too sweet, but if the objection is (as it seems to be) against carb-on-carb action, then I'm afraid I can't get on board with the hate – incredible comfort food. 

    Amount of times this food has brought me to the Ryanair website looking for flights home: literally zero.

    10. Hot cross buns

    Debby Lewis-harrison / Getty Images/Image Source

    Why are scones the main British afternoon dessert thing and not these?? They're the perfect mix of crisp and chewy, they're *amazing* with everything from butter to chocolate spread, and (most importantly) they make your kitchen smell like you've been doing some actual baking. Frankly, scones could never.

    Amount of times I've legitimately considered eating these for every meal: I'd say at least 35, and that's being stingy.

    9. Most meal deals

    Amy Glover / BuzzFeed

    I've got to acknowledge the entrepreneurial spirit of the modern British supermarket here – they sure do know how to deal those meals. Firstly, there's the frugal *thrill* of spending £3.50 on a meal which includes a £3.75 smoothie (is that what finance people mean when they talk about liquid assets? Probably!). Secondly, there's the tacit understanding that crisps and sandwiches belong together, which is of course deeply and deliciously true. Also, it's an absolutely *prime* spot to judge strangers (prawn sandwich and Monster Munch day for you huh, green anorak? Fascinating).

    Days since I last abandoned my homemade soup to get a meal deal instead: that'd have to be a zero.

    8. Scotch eggs

    Bhofack2 / Getty Images/iStockphoto

    Maximalism. Texture. Unbiteably large diameters. These bad boys have them all, and while they're slightly gross, that's kind of the appeal. You eat a scotch egg to say, look, I'm feeling a little bit too comfortable with who I am today and at my core I, like everyone else, want what is essentially a spherical fry-up. It also marks the consumer with the Stink Breath of Shame, which (like the black ribbons mourners wore in Victorian times) lets everyone know that you're in a very, uh, particular headspace.

    Times eating one of these has given me a more accurate assessment of how my life's going than a therapy sesssion ever could: do you know what, not everything is everybody's business.

    7. Potato waffles

    Lena_zajchikova / Getty Images

    It's amazing what mediocrity can happen when you mix two nominally great things together, isn't it? Potatoes – incredible! Waffles? Delicious. I feel bad that they've both become implicated here. It's not that potato waffles are *awful*, it's just that they're so tasteless that they might as well not be on my plate – the name promises so much and delivers so little.

    Times I've thought 'eh, this is fine I guess' when served potato waffles: every single instance.


    **NOTE: My editor absolutely does not endorse this message, and has made me move it one place higher than I originally wanted to put it by forcing me to concede that yes, it is very handy that you can put them in the toaster.**

    6. Selection boxes

    Jasmin Nahar / BuzzFeed

    In two words, these are chaotic good. The reason I dislike these sometimes is the same reason I kind of love them: they're meant to be for everybody, so they end up not really being fully for anyone. An incredible philosophical lesson about community and compromise, but I wish it didn't come at the cost of those (manky) strawberry creams. 

    Conversations I've tuned out of because I need to be there the *second* one of these is opened or only the orange liqueurs will be left: maybe 78? Sorry! 

    5. Bourbon biscuits

    Peter Dazeley / Getty Images

    Unforgivable. There are few things I find completely irredeemable in a person, but I think if someone told me these were their favourite biscuit I'd have to move my flat, change my job, and cut contact with them forever. They're too dry and gritty to be tasty on their own, and they dissolve too quickly to be considered a good dunker. They also claim to be chocolate-flavoured, which, respectfully – where? A troubling food, and absolute red flag of a biscuit choice (especially when we consider how readily-available chocolate hobnobs are here).

    Facts I know about bourbon biscuits that somehow make them even *more* upsetting to me: one (they've supposedly been eaten on the moon. All that technology and they brought bourbons. Says a lot x)

    4. Victoria sponge cake

    Joff Lee / Getty Images

    It's not that I think there's never been a good Victoria sponge cake, but we have to judge these things by the average experience, and the typical one is (sorry) vile. Your run-of-the-mill sponge is just too frickin' dry, and too many of them have way too much gritty buttercream in the middle (á la those awful cupcakes everyone was eating in 2012). I feel the average Victoria sponge cake somehow manages to make international perceptions of the British monarchy worse. 

    Times I've created an unnecessary rift between me and someone who could have been my closest friend over this: about 26

    3. The specific meal deal sandwich that literally only contains ham

    Getty Images/Image Source

    The thing about this one is it had to pass through so many hands. Recipe developers, marketing teams, researchers, people who I'm assuming are called Sandwich Generals – all of them had to put so much effort into putting this sad empty-cupboard situation together, and all of them decided it was okay. I have a conspiracy theory that the people who write ingredient lists for sandwich packages lobbied for this (cursed) invention to make their jobs easier, but until it's proven I'll just have to blame the malevolent minds behind British supermarkets. Appalling vibes.

    Nights I've spent lying awake hoping the people who eat these are doing okay: around 46,575.

    2. Sausage casserole

    Jupiterimages / Getty Images

    Folks, this is a boiled sausage situation. Boiled. In liquid, which sometimes contains tinned beans and their juice. Upset, distraught, texturally traumatised.

    Minutes I spent with my jaw on the floor after I heard that this meal exists: maybe 27? 

    1. Rich tea biscuits

    Amy Glover / BuzzFeed

    I'll try to be as fair as I can here – imagine living in a place where shortbread comes from and taking it upon yourself to create another iconic biscuit. The pressure must have been intense, I get it! But what I don't get is why your brain would then flip to 'let's make a rubbery biscuit that literally tastes of compromise'. It has no conviction, no decisive textural direction, and no place whatsoever near my tea (it's not even a good dunking biscuit!!! WHO IS IT FOR!!!!). 

    My blood pressure after even thinking about these: 575/386