The Worlds Best Macaroons...

It's Thursday afternoon and I'm walking though the new Christmas market in the city centre of Liverpool. It's nice, it's festive; it's the perfect reason to drink some warm alcohol at 2pm during the week. I'm perusing the stalls, when suddenly, I'm stopped in my tracks; aghast. To my right, bold as brass, is a large chalk-board with the words 'Worlds Best Macaroons!' written right across it. I've stumbled across a stall selling the world's best macaroons! The worlds best! Right here, in Liverpool. I cannot believe my luck - how could I not have heard about this? Surely this would have made the news or be trending on Twitter or something.

I approach the shack, excitedly.

"Hello!" I say, trying to keep my cool. "I'll take 3 macaroons, please." I suddenly wonder whether 3 is really too many, but I'm filled with excitement regardless.

This is the real deal, I think to myself. Everyone else is going into Starbucks or John Lewis or somewhere, and getting something mass produced and normal. Oh no, not me; for I have found the ultimate. I look over at the people waiting in the Costa over the road and laugh to myself - if only they knew what they're missing, I think.

"Would you like a coffee with that? It's the world's best." Said the man running the booth, half heartedly.

I'm instantly suspicious... this stall has managed to create both the worlds best coffee and macaroons? Surely that's not something they could just say, is it? It was crudely written on a large chalk-board so it must be true, surely? I take the plunge and hand over my fiver.

Moments later, I'm passed the goods and instantly become excited again. I am about to eat the worlds best macaroons, and drink the worlds best coffee. What a time to be alive, I think.

Slowly, I reach into the bag and raise the warm coconut treat towards my mouth, taking a bite. I look the man straight in the eye, and pause for a moment to build the dramatic effect just like they do on The Great British Bake Off. I'm just like Mary Berry, I think to myself. A few moments pass before I realise it was strange I didn't choose Paul Hollywood for the comparison.

The tension is palpable. Clearly, I think to myself, he cannot wait to hear my verdict. Just what do I think of these... oh, the man has sat down and started looking at his phone again. I swallow the mouthful and it's all a bit dry and underwhelming. I slip the coffee. It's luke-walm. I walk away, deflated.

I see another sign a few stalls down, 'The Worlds Best Coffee!' it says. I'm not falling for this again, I think.

I turn into Costa and order a Black Forest latte, begrudgingly.

It's the best coffee I've ever tasted.