Chewsday

THIS WEEK: Wrigley's Extra Plus Chill Chewing Gum, True Dates, Sunday Riley Ceramic Slip Cleanser

THING: Wrigley’s Extra Plus Chill Chewing Gum

Of course it’s not really Chewsday! In the UK, it’s Bank Holiday Monday, which means we can all chill (unless you’re at work, or a parent, or you write a Substack newsletter).

What’s it like to be chill, I wonder? I am not chill. I used to be chill when I was younger but I think I was just drunk.

Since I had a child 19 years ago (!!) my nervous system has been so shredded by life’s ups and downs that if you could see it, it would probably look like pulled pork. I jump out of my skin at everything from bees to electric car engine sounds that sound like the beginning bit of a nuclear siren.

I spend far too many hours thinking about whether batteries in smoke alarms are working or whether I have the right kind of waterproof, comfortable boots for the apocalypse. Also, the other day I was walking down the street and a woman’s head appeared over a wall and I screamed and nearly passed away. (She was pruning some ivy.)

I should probably get a prescription for Sertraline or stimulate my vagus nerve or do some mindful, off-screen activity like making a sculpture of Lionel Ritchie’s head. But instead of doing that, I bought this not at all scientifically proven chewing gum:

To be fair, it was only 80p, which is much cheaper than electroshock therapy or Davina McCall-endorsed Collagen and Ashwaganda powder that tastes like the ground-up bones of your ancestors.

What makes it chill? Well, it’s got Niacin in it, also known as vitamin B3. Niacin ‘contributes to normal psychological function’ but we all know that in 2026, that ship has definitely sailed.

Does it do anything else? Hmm, not really. Niacin is also in tuna, but nobody wants to chew tuna, unless they’re a cat. And as far as I know, no human being has ever felt particularly chill after eating tuna. It’s not like people are scoffing tuna for lunch and then acting like the Dude in the Big Lebowski, is it? Nobody has ever said: ‘Oh don’t worry about Doreen, she’ll come round in a minute, she’s just been caning the John West.’

But why let reality get in the way of trying to sell a chilled out gum to Gen Z? Or, more accurately, anxious middle-aged women who are frightened of electric car sounds?

Grab some chew time. The kids say that, right? Yeah, write that down.

The small print says ‘chew one piece for 20 minutes.’ Easier said than done - it’s like trying to bite down on some wood while a 19th Century country doctor saws your leg off. My jaws were knackered after five, and the watermelon taste was like ghastly floral perfume. Eventually, the gum loosened up a bit, but it was still like chomping on galvanised rubber.

Did it work? Hahaha. What do you think? During the 20 minutes, though, I did have sufficient time to chill, which I used to look up niacin in more detail and found out that if you have too much of it, it can give you diarrhoea and dementia.

Then I almost had a panic attack because I heard a weird noise outside. (It was raining.)

VERDICT: Niacin to see here

THING: True Dates cola flavoured dates

Is it any wonder I’m always on edge with things like this in the world? I bought this deranged Scandi candy in Søstrene Grene, where usually the worst thing that could happen is that a wicker basket might fall over and knock a spoon holder gently to the ground while Für Elise plays softly from the speakers.

I wasn’t prepared to have my perceptions challenged and my world shaken to its very foundations by cola flavoured dates from Denmark, but I couldn’t stop myself from buying them. I would eat locusts if they tasted like fizzy cola bottles. And come on, this is a great idea. Make something natural taste like something so unnatural that your cheeks cave in and your brain starts popping? Those Danes are mad(s Mikkelsen)!

One thing I would say about these is that they’re very chewy, even chewier than Chill chewing gum, so make sure you don’t have any dental issues or false teeth. They’re also coated in some alarming white powdery stuff that surely can’t come from a natural source, because it tasted like every trip to the ice cream van outside school, where I used to buy 50 fizzy cola bottles at lunchtime and eat them until I foamed at the mouth.

Unlike cola bottles, though, these are dates, so they’re good for you. Sort of. My teeth hurt. My head hurts. My guts hurt. But I can’t stop. MORE DATES. MORE!!

VERDICT: Cola rectal surgery

THING: Sunday Riley Ceramic Slip Cleanser

Nothing is really what it seems this week. Tuna chewing gum, cola dates - and now this. Now, let me assure you that I am not usually one for spenny skincare. This was given to me by a very generous friend in an amazing Space NK gift bag along with gorgeous hand cream, face mist, shampoo and a fancy natural deodorant that has ruined me for all other deodorants - Sure Cotton Fresh now seems about as classy as a jug of Venom.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a very cool cleanser. Cool brand, cool name, contains French clay, not your shit regular clay. It cleanses my face and doesn’t make me break out into a hellish rosacea rash. However, there’s one drawback.

IT STINKS OF SWEATY BUMS.

Honestly, it’s like slavering distilled tramp’s crack on your face every day. I don’t know whether it’s the French clay or the *checks label* rice oil esters (yes, probably those) but my God it’s HONKIN’.

Still, this stuff retails at £26 and I’ve still got about £20 left. So it looks like - until June at least - every day is like Bumday.

VERDICT: Face like an arse