...but I'm on a diet, you see. Which means that most of my waking hours are spent mentally caressing, licking, sucking, savouring and noisily appreciating that great diet taboo, chocolate. And when I dream of chocolate, I always dream of Mars, the gooiest, sweetest, softest, biggest, best chocolate bar of them all.

A Mars straight out of the fridge: hard at first and cold on your tongue, then slowly, slowly melting and getting warmer, its contents merging together and oozing out into the furthest reaches of your mouth, a sweet, sticky union of nougat, caramel and chocolate undulating over your gums, sticking to your teeth and sending a shock through your fillings. Actually, that last bit doesn't happen to me, but I'm told it's a peril of the Mars-eating job for some.

Mars bars were bigger in my youth. Bigger and firmer. You really got value for your money in a Mars because it took some time to chew. You only needed one to gain total satisfaction, whereas now you need two.

They're smaller now, and the nougat is lighter, more like a Milky Way (which is also lighter than it used to be), but the chocolate is still thick and the caramel still leaves a trail from bar to mouth that sticks to your finger when you try to shift it.

They're made by Mars, wouldn't you know. They consist of whipped nougat and caramel covered in milk chocolate. They cost thirtysomething pence. You can get them just about anywhere. They're Mars's biggest seller, and have been for years and years. They reputedly help you work, rest and play, though I've never found that myself. I just like the things and that's all I ask of them: taste good.

They come in a black wrapper with the name MARS emblazoned proudly in gold-edged red writing. They are available in fun size and king size versions too. I've heard you can buy a meter of Mars but I've never seen one. There's something about that wrapper tha
t makes you think you're doing something you shouldn't when you bite it's tip and start to strip it. I think it's the colours, like a cheap tart's clothes.

I don't know how many calories they are and I'm not going to find out. You shouldn't be thinking of calories when you eat one. You should simply be enjoying yourself.

I don't know if Marianne Faithfull really did that thing or not. If she did, it was a waste of a good Mars bar if you ask me. She should have asked someone what they were for if she didn't know. I just hope she's read the instructions on her vibrator, or she'll be in A&E with a junior doctor's probe down her throat.

If you want to you can try melting a few Mars bars and pouring the sauce over vanilla ice cream and topping with chopped nuts.

If you want to. I prefer mine unadulterated. Hard core Mars.

Right. I'm off for a baked potato and some cottage cheese.

Does anyone know of a website showing pictures of people eating mars bars in graphic close-up, or maybe a group Mars-eating shot or something?