The search keywords that direct people to The Rich Tea Biscuit Party are a rather interesting read. Most of them make complete sense, in a relatively abstract kind of way. You get the feeling that people weren’t looking for ‘8 Reasons Starship Troopers is the Greatest Man Movie Ever’ when they typed ‘Intergalactic boobs’ into Google, but nonetheless you can understand how they ended up there. Similarly, it makes sense that people who for some reason feel compelled to write ‘I HATE PEOPLE’ in capital letters will not be completely upset to find themselves reading ‘10 Types of People We All Hate’.
But every now and then, a weird one pops up. I don’t know what they were looking for when they typed in ‘Party Cock Fülhallgató’, but it certainly hadn’t been catered for on this site, along with ‘Prosaic Rich Tea’ and ‘How much does one packet of instant mash potatoes make?’
One entry made took me somewhat by surprise however. It made me sad. It filled me with heart-wrenching sympathy. I almost shed a tear. Some poor soul had typed in the words ‘Interesting Biscuit Facts’ and been diverted to this site where, due to my inadequacies and poor foresight, their desperate, pleading thirst for baked snack trivia had not been in anyway quenched. But I am a man of the people! I give the people what the people want, and if the people want Interesting Biscuit Facts, then fuck me rigid, they’re gonna get some.
So it is with both apology and pleasure that I present to you 8 Interesting Biscuit Facts.
Digestive Biscuits are Covered by your Health Insurance
Well, that’s a lie actually. The point is, Digestive biscuits are so-called because back in ‘the day’, it was believed that they had antacid properties due to an ingredient called sodium bicarbonate, or baking soda.
They are also former British Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s favourite biscuit. They are not Barack Obama’s favourite biscuit. In fact, it some US states it is illegal to call them Digestives because it implies false medicinal qualities, an absolutely heinous and unforgivable crime. These are probably the same states where loaded guns come free in children’s breakfast cereal. Obama’s favourite biscuits would probably have some butt-sex inclined name like ‘Liberty Cookies’, or ‘Independence Cakes’ or some other variety of Constitution-related, overtly patriotic, yankee-doodle, M16 toting, cowboy hat wearing, flag waving, square dancing bullshit. We get it America, you can walk yourself to school now. Big fucking whoop.
The World Loves Oreos
Oreos are the world’s best selling cookie and have become synonymous with the slogan ‘Twist, lick, dunk’. I never eat Oreos like that. I eat them like a biscuit. I don’t see the point of twisting the two biscuit pieces apart, but because if I ‘lick’ the cream off and ‘dunk’ the residual cookies into my milk, I’m dunking two bits of cookie covered in my saliva. I might as well just spit into my milk.
Oreo is also one of my favourite racist comments to make to my black friend Chris. When he talks, I shout 'Oh my god! A talking Oreo! Oh... Sorry, that's your mouth...'
Tim Tams are the Love Child of a Horse and a Penguin
Tim Tams are very popular in Australia. If Australians could vote for a Tim Tam in federal elections, the Tim Tam would win. This is mainly to the dire quality of its political competition who are mere Wagon Wheels in comparison, but I for one would welcome our new biscuit overlords.
Despite Australia’s patriotic over-selling of the Tim Tam brand, the biscuits were based on the pre-existing Penguin bar sold in the UK since 1932. In fact, I might be wrong, but I think penguins themselves were based on the pre-existing chocolate biscuit. I’ve seen a live Emperor Penguin, and there’s no way that nature came up with that. They look like little fat blokes in wet-suits. When I left the Melbourne Aquarium, I was haunted with nightmares starring Danny DeVito for months.
Tim Tams were named by Ross Arnott, in honour of the horse that won the 1958 Kentucky Derby. If he’d been there two years earlier, they would’ve been called ‘Needles’.
Hitler Gave us the Chocolate Chip Cookie
Again, I’ve twisted facts to make the whole thing sound more interesting than it actually is. Hitler didn’t actually ‘give us’ the choc-chip cookie. In actual fact, he tried to invade Europe and slaughter millions of Jews, which is almost the opposite of supplying everyone with tasty, baked goods. Bad Hitler, smack choo on ze nose.
The choc-chip cookie was invented by Ruth Wakefield of Massachusetts in 1930, when she replaced her regular chocolate mix with Nestle chocolate. Because the French apparently can’t get any fucking thing right, the chocolate didn’t mix properly with the rest of Wakefield’s dough, which resulted in the birth of the surprisingly popular chocolate chip cookie.
But it wasn’t until WWII, when soldiers from Massachusetts who were overseas amongst their comrades shared these cookies around and then made them famous. See what I did there? Hitler gave us WWII, so he inadvertently gave us Chips Ahoy. And I personally think that makes the sacrifice of six millions Jews worthwhile.
Please forward any complaints about the previous sentence to urkiddingyourselfifyouthinkIgiveafuck@therichteabiscuitparty.com.
My Favourite Biscuit
I like ANZAC Biscuits. I like them because they’re tasty and because of the romantic wartime connotations. ANZAC Biscuits are very popular in Australia and New Zealand and were supplied to troops during both World Wars because of their longevity. For anybody who hasn’t eaten and ANZAC biscuit, you should. They blow Oreos out of the fucking water, and rightly so with the anagram of Australian and New Zealand Army Corp in their name. They’re fucking Battle Cookies.
Not only is the name Battle Cookie an awesome thing to have thought up on the spot, it would also help out Subway restaurants who were denied the right to bake some cookies in Australia in 2008. The Department of Veterans’ Affairs demanded that if Subway were to sell the biscuits under the ANZAC brand, they must make them exactly according to the proper recipe. Admittedly, that’s an extremely anal-retentive move by the DVA, but what the hell else are they gonna do with their time? You can only play so much backgammon. Subway ceased baking the cookies out of petulance and possibly because they hadn’t come up with a name as fucking awesome as ‘Battle Cookies’.
Those Pink Wafery Finger Things
I got nothing on these.
The only definition that the Internet came up with was ‘An uncooperatively dry vagina’.
So let’s leave it at that.
It’s Okay to Hit Women (with Shortbread)
Dishes still not done? Your favourite shirt not ironed? Clearly she needs to be taught a lesson, but what to do? You can’t hit a woman in this day and age. Unless…
No, it’s not actually okay to hit a woman, even if she does give you turkey when you wanted ham. But in Shetland, it’s considered (the world’s most stupid?) tradition to break a giant shortbread cake over the head of a bride upon her entrance to her new home. Nothing says, ‘I love you. You’re my everything. I wake earlier in the day just to spend more time with you. I’d give up drink and smoke and drugs just so I could live longer with you. You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. You’re perfect. You’re my north, south, east and west. You sustain me, you stimulate me, you make me strive to be a better person just so I may one day think that I actually deserve you. I never want to spend another second of my life without you. You’re my absolute everything and you make me fear nothing except losing you. Please, I beg, I plead, I pray and I hope with every inch of my unworthy heart, be mine forever’ like having an enormous, slow cooked, sugary biscuit forcefully smashed with all power and might over your unprotected skull.
Apparently blokes wearing skirts isn’t weird enough in Scotland. Apparently eating the offal of various animals isn’t absurd enough in Scotland. Apparently ‘Trainspotting’ wasn’t as completely fucked up as they’d wanted. No, apparently they have to commit spousal abuse with crumbly confection for the fine people of the Scottish Highlands to be totally satisfied with their nation’s reputation for being a little bit odd. Only when the Scots have been wiped out in the ‘Great Biscuit War’, and their entire race brutally stabbed to death with Walker’s Scotch Fingers, and frisbeed in the head with razor-edged Wagon Wheels, and skull-bashed with chocolate-coated Hob-Nobs, will they be completely at ease with their national identity.
Rich Tea Biscuits
It’s only fitting that these biscuits get a mention. But how to describe them? How does one make them interesting? Do I talk about their Yorkshire origins, back in the 17th century? Do I talk about how their creator died of pellagra? Do I talk about their undeniable, wholesome Britishness? Or do I bitch and complain?
Rich Tea Biscuits were called Tea Biscuits until rich people started eating them. They were called Tea Biscuits due to their uninspiring blandness, which meant that the only suitable purpose for them was to be dunked into tea. However, their consistency and poor structural integrity makes the accompanied tea-snack consumption a balancing act of skill and patience, requiring a dunker of heightened dexterity and finesse to delicately calculate the length of time necessary for the biscuit to properly soak up enough tea, without breaking off into the cup thus spoiling the entire day. It could be an Olympic sport.
There’s no reason why this site is titled The Rich Tea Biscuit Party. But maybe one day, some other self-absorbed knob with a laptop will decide to write an article entitled ‘Interesting Biscuit Facts’. And maybe the best fact that he can find about Rich Tea Biscuits will be something like ‘were the inspiration for the critically acclaimed, world changing, Booker prize winning web-log by Tom Overend, the one that got him laid heaps and made all the women swoon and touch him on the penis’.
Until then, please continue to dunk the metaphorical Rich Tea Biscuit into the figurative cup of tea that is your open, pondering mind. Hold it there and let the two meld together in an intertwining orgy of informative absorption, until the biscuit breaks off and sinks to the bottom, and you have to scoop it out with a spoon.