An unstraightforward, extrausual nose – we, the no-flannel panel, found oodles of tastylicioustoffeenesses, essence of BFG (black forest gâteau), prunes, Madeira-madearie, tobacco threads and polished pipes. The gob-smack was gob-smackingly impactful and chewy as a Wookie’s teazle – maple candies, cinder toffee, cherries in syrup, leather and spice. The water-weakened nose had well-stroked razor-stroppers, fine-and-fancy fumadors, orange peel, lickerish liquorice and pink and dandy candy floss – tip-top snifferoos. The taste was now all fig jam and Jaffa, Jamaicy ginga cakey, juicy pear-belly Helene and sugar-coated fennel seeds. A crodscollop dram to drain hum-drum tedium from the dullest day – gloriumptious, phizz-whizzing and jumpsquiffling.