Hello deep fried Mars bar, my old friend. It’s been so many years since we’ve done this, but as it’s Shuyang’s first time at the Fringe and indeed in Scotland, it’s only right to make sure he gets to try it. We are sensible this time. Three deep fried Mars bars between six of us. At, let’s not gloss over it, £6 a pop. The cost of living crisis comes to us all. They’ve jazzed it up since the last time we came, with each serving coming with some whipped cream and god help me even a little dusting of cinnamon. The cream is vastly appreciated, helping - to use a technical term - to declag the Mars bar. Much needed. It’s actually not as bad as I remember, although I do feel my arteries harden in real time. Maybe not every year, but nice to be back. This is how it ends.