‘I ate all the mince pies in Bristol’

Christmas has come early, unfortunately. It might be warmer than Turkey outside and I might be sitting at my computer in an overlit office instead of by the log fire, but I am laden with gifts.

Eight gifts, to be precise. Eight little baked pastry cups stuffed with good old fashioned mince meat. Theses sugary treats from seven of the best bakeries in town (and Sainsbury’s) are staring up at me like the filthy stodge cakes that they are. I hate them and want to throw them in the bin.

But I can’t. I have to eat them for you and all the other readers wasting time at their desks and on their phones so I can tell you what it’s like before I’m sick.

Anyway, not sure I mentioned this, but I dislike mince pies. Strongly. They’re too sweet, among other things. Give me seven pigs in blankets any day.

I once ate 15 slices of pizza at a Pizza Hut buffet lunch and fell over outside next to a bin on the pavement near the Hippodrome and couldn’t get up. Ask my friend Lorrie. She ate 16.

As eating challenges go, this one should be more of a walk in the park than a lie down in the street. But I know I’ll have to force down every repulsive bite. Plus, I just ate two sausage rolls and a bagel before my editor forced the task on me (having had no luck persuading the editorial assistant, who will probably be sacked by the time you read this).

My mission begins at 1.45pm with a golden brown flakey number from Baked on Oxford Street in Totterdown (three for £1). I’m sure it is delicious, but to me they all taste the same. In fairness, the texture is fine. It’s not as achingly dry as the Sainsbury’s one either.

“Have we reached peak mince pie?” goes a conversation downstairs. “Impossible,” comes the reply. I disagree.

Number two on the list is from Hart’s Bakery in an arch underneath Temple Meads station. It’s mammoth and takes me the best part of 15 minutes to eat. The size of a small child’s fist, it is covered with crumble topping. I hate crumble. It’s deep and heavy, and worth the £1.50 in its size alone. I feel sick.

The Mark’s Bread pie (£1) has a star on it. Classic. I don’t want to sound like I’m enjoying this too much, but the pastry on this one is good. Shame it’s filled with horrible sticky mess.

Now, here’s a thing. When you keep eating mince pies your mouth starts to go tangy as the sweetness penetrates your gums until they ache. It feels like you’ve been chewing molasses all day.

I turn my attention next to the Hobbs House pie all the way from Chipping Sodbury (£1, plus fuel). The sugar is making my vision blur. It is a golden number and is sweet as they come, again.

While eating my pie from the Redland Village Bakery (75p) at about 2.50pm (I took a call from a lovely lady who runs a lunch club in Shirehampton in between) I notice how sick I feel. I also notice I’ve subconsciously pulled the waistband of my pants over my bloating gut in some kind of failed attempt to contain it. The pie has been dusted with so much fine sugar it looks like it’s been dug out of the snow.

Joe’s Bakery on Gloucester Road (60p) has a similar idea. Except its granules of sugar are bigger – but no less sweet, unfortunately. It’s past 3pm now and the next pies are all a blur with vague memories of sugar rush highs and sleepy lows.

I can’t finish the Herberts Bakery one (55p) or the Sainsbury’s one (30p). They are too horrible and ugly and there’s no room left in the sugar fermenter that my stomach has turned into. Plus, it’s the staff Christmas meal tonight and I don’t want to vomit on my editor. Not this early anyway.

Happy Christmas. Enjoy your mince pies.