Magnum Mint: An Obsession

MInt flavoured noshtalgia that comes out of a fridge. When you can get them that is.
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MInt flavoured noshtalgia that comes out of a fridge. When you can get them that is.

I need a fix!



The National Magnum Mint Shortage was a bit of a bastard. I’ve spent too much of my adult life as I know it hooked on sex, drink, drugs, carrot salad, football, Scrabble on Facebook and Haribo, and a lot of time and money learning to combat my impulsive need for these things to go and let a fucking ice cream topple life as I know, but that’s what happens when ice cream companies sneak out a new product and then the supply chain falters.

Magnum must be one of the great brand successes of the last two decades. It’s essentially a choc ice on a stick but the quality of the chocolate and the feel of ad campaigns have made eating these things feel like you’re locked in a room at Claridges with Raquel Welch or Robert Pattinson. The Magnum Mint has a hint of ‘Noshtalgia’ about it. Something about the taste takes me back to my formative years as an ice cream and sweets eater when life, non-school time and World Cups seemed much simpler, hotter and more amazing.

Having tonsillitis in a heatwave gave me a good excuse to get more Magnum Mints but could I find any in London, East Sussex or Kent? I might as well have been talking Gujarati to the country and seaside ice cream vendors. I tracked down the Walls Press Office and even they’d run out of the fuckers but sent round some other stock instead. Meanwhile, my mate Dead Bloke in Bradford taunted me with revelations on Twitter that an Asda near him were selling packets of six. That customer ‘Need to feed’ feeling is the gold all products long for.