Metro 52

Richard Herring: My Valentine’s Day Ferrero Rocher nightmare

Friday 15 Feb 2013
Richard Herring is drowning under a mountain of decaying chocolate ¬Ė so much for romantic gestures.

Did you have a good Valentine’s Day? It’s become a bit of a nightmare for me.

When I first met my wife, she revealed she had a list of things she wanted to do before she died: climb Mount Kilimanjaro, do a skydive. But the third thing on her list of lifetime ambitions was to build a pyramid out of Ferrero Rocher chocolates like in the Ambassador’s reception advert.

To even think of wanting to do that was incredible but surely it’d be easy to achieve. Buy some chocolates, borrow a tray. Bang!
So the fact it was an unfulfilled ambition really impressed me. She wanted to do that but she couldn’t be bothered. That’s the girl for me. Our first Valentine’s Day together came along shortly afterwards.

I gave her a single Ferrero Rocher chocolate with a note saying: ¬ĎIf we¬íre still together next Valentine¬ís Day, I¬íll buy you another chocolate. I¬íll do the same every Valentine¬ís Day and if this relationship lasts as long as I know it will, then eventually you¬íll have enough chocolates to build your pyramid.¬í Pretty smooth. Watch and learn, fellas.

Of course that wouldn’t be quick. By the time she had enough chocolates to build the pyramid, the early ones that she’d been keeping in a tin for 50 years would be mouldy and crumble to dust, like something from Miss Havisham’s feast, but it was a romantic gesture. But not one that I could duck out of, unless I wanted her to think I didn’t love her any more. So the next year I decided to speed things up and gave her two Ferrero Rochers.

The third year I was in a quandary. Was I buying chocolates equal to the number of Valentine’s we’d shared? Or was I doubling the Ferrero Rochers on a yearly basis? It was at this point that I made a foolish decision, which didn’t fully take into account the power of exponential mathematics. I bought her four chocolates.

She now had seven chocolates BUT the convention had been established: there had to be chocolates each year and they had to double each year. Otherwise she¬íd throw them back in my face shouting: ¬ĎSo your love hasn¬ít DOUBLED this year, then!¬í

Yesterday was our sixth Valentine’s Day and I had to fork out for 32 chocolates. But it gets worse. Next year will be 64. She’ll have 127 chocolates, in a tin, in various states of decay, which will probably be enough to build an impressive pyramid. That doesn’t mean I can stop. Chocolates every year. Double every year.

In 2020 I will be buying 2,048 Ferrero Rochers. If we¬íre still together ten years later ¬Ė 2,097,152 gold-wrapped, unpleasant tasting, testicle-shaped sweetmeats to add to the 2,097,151 she¬ís been storing in a huge variety of containers all over the house. This romantic gesture is going to bankrupt me but there¬ís no way out.

I have three options. The first and most honourable one is to kill myself. As long as my Ferrero obligation has been fulfilled at the point of suicide, everyone will be happy.

The second is to keep buying the chocolates until our house is so full of Ferrero Rocher chocolates that we have to move. My third option is to divorce my wife.

It would seem a shame to end the most successful relationship of my life merely because of a poorly considered romantic gesture. Let this be a warning to any potential Romeos out there. Don’t let your love cloud your judgment. Or you’ll be paying for it for the rest of your life.

See Richard Herring’s smash-hit show, Talking Cock: The Second Coming, on his nationwide tour.
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