The most annoying thing that has ever befallen me whilst spooning in the cold fatty goodness of ice cream is the incongruity of textures. The ice cream melts faster and the frozen chocolate chips become a mouthful of cold bricks that stick to the teeth.

Andie, on the other hand, had a story to tell me today that just positively takes the cake. She was roughly one quarter of the way into a pint of rocky road when she noticed a funny tickle in her mouth. She gave it a tactile examination with her tongue and, producing no satisfactory hypothesis, she re-spooned it to give it a visual inspection.

Parts of a dead, frozen millipede lay in her gaze.

I’m not one to judge the exotic delicacies of others, but the sudden discovery of a cryo-insect embedded in one’s dessert is enough to send me screaming to the medicine cabinet for some Pepto.

She was an excellent sport about it, though.