Recently, I went on a vacation to London and learned a number of interesting things about British life. For example, if you value your life, always look before crossing the street. You can also buy single-serve gin and tonics at the grocery store. (They come in handy if you’re travelling with the same person for 10 days straight.) And British folks like to watch dating shows where contestants show their genitals. The most important thing I learned, though, is that British people love their chocolate just as much as Canadians. Only over there, it’s called “choclit.”

I was surprised by the wide variety of choclit bars, many of which I’d never seen in Canada. So, like anyone with not much of a social life, I brought some back home and conducted a taste test. I’ve never met a chocolate bar I didn’t like (aside from Big Turk, but does anyone like those?). Would that hold true for British choclit?

Today, dear reader, you can benefit from my investigative research. Here’s my first-ever British Choclit Bar Taste Test.

1) Picnic
Wrapper description: The crunchy, chewy, fruit feast

I don’t know about you, but one choclit bar is hardly a feast for me. Four, maybe. Picnic has peanuts and raisins and brought back some painful childhood memories. When I was in Cubs, we had a Christmas gift exchange. The limit was five dollars. A boy named Shawn had my name and all he gave me was a Fruit and Nut chocolate bar. That was, like, way under five dollars. I felt cheated. Personal bias aside, Picnic tasted good, like if you crammed a handful of chocolate-covered peanuts and raisins in your mouth at the same time. (We’ve all been there, so don’t judge.)

High definition interior shot of a Picnic bar.

Canadian equivalent: Looks like Mr. Big, tastes like Sweet Marie

2) Twirl
Wrapper description: Intense Cadbury chocolate hit

This bar was two skinny bars of choclit. There was nothing else mixed in other than choclit. I fell asleep while eating it. Twirl is a good choclit bar for people who don’t do well with change. Or for fans of Kenya from The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

High definition interior shot of a Twirl bar.

Canadian equivalent: Flake bar

3) Wispa Gold
Wrapper description: The Wispa You Love with a Cheeky Caramel Layer

The package description assumed I was already in love with a Wispa. I don’t know what a Wispa is. If you ask me, it sounds like a brand of vacuum cleaner. That said, Wispa Gold was tasty. There’s a nougat and a caramel layer but, as I chewed, I kept waiting for something to happen. Suffice to say, the caramel wasn’t cheeky enough to maintain my interest.

High definition interior shot of a Wispa Gold bar.

Canadian equivalent: 3 Musketeers

4) Yorkie Raisin and Biscuit
Wrapper description: Man Fuel for Man Stuff

This choclit bar intimidated me because I don’t do a lot of man stuff. I’m not even sure what man stuff is. Is it boxing and axe tossing and wearing high endurance deodorant? Why is Yorkie sold as a man’s choclit bar anyway? Do the words “yorkie” and “biscuit” sound even a tiny bit masculine to you? The combo of cookie bits and chewy raisins were a nice contrast, though. After I was done, I went out and wrestled some hogs.

High defintion interior shot of a Yorkie bar.

Canadian equivalent: Fruit and Nut bar. Look, I'm sorry to bring this up again, but the price limit was five dollars, Shawn. You could’ve at least bought two bars.

5) Double Decker
Wrapper description: Soft on top with a crispy bottom

The description pretty much describes yours truly the summer I fell asleep in the backyard without my pants on. Hands down, this was my favourite choclit bar. It gave me everything I wanted. A soft, marshmallow-y cushion coupled with a crunchy, cookie-infused bottom. It was like a choclit bar with multiple personalities and all of them got along.

High definition interior shot of a Double Decker bar.

Canadian equivalent: 3 Musketeers straddling a Twix

6) Galaxy Bar
Wrapper description: Smooth Milk

You can probably tell by the riveting package description that this choclit bar was a snoozer. There wasn’t much going on. Not even an almond. Galaxy is the choclit bar your elderly aunt buys and then you sit there, twitching uncomfortably in one of her embroidered dining room chairs, while she works her way through the bar, making soft sucking noises.

High definition interior shot of a Galaxy bar.

Canadian equivalent: Dairy Milk

So there you have it! I ate six choclit bars and my track pants are feeling as snug as my GWGs. But that’s a small price to pay in return for this kind of knowledge, dear reader. If you have any choclit bar recommendations of your own, feel free to leave a comment. Unless you’re a Big Turk fan.